


Red Skies

by starrylia



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst, Blood, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Execution, F/F, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Injury, Kidnapping, Mild Gore, Multi, Past Character Death, Post-Series, Resonance Bang 2015, slight body horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-04 22:43:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 58,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5351117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrylia/pseuds/starrylia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maka learns that not all stories have a happy ending when a “wish” sends her down a different path. To a reality where Soul never became a death scythe, where the last Grim Reaper sits imprisoned in chains, where madness rules, and the skies are permanently dyed red…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here we are; my entry for Resbang 2015! Not going to lie, I was (and still am) ridiculously nervous about this. Not only was this my first time participating in Resbang, it was also my first time in any fandom event. Ever. So gosh, this was really daunting. 
> 
> Make sure to check out the absolutely amazing art for this story done by tilliquoi on tumblr! She’s insanely talented, and I’m still completely over-the-moon that she wanted to work with my derp piece. Her art has really captured the mood of this fic; it’s definitely worth checking out. You can see it here: http://tilliquoi.tumblr.com/post/135582803213/my-art-for-crimson-lias-fic-red-skies-for-resbang 
> 
> A huge shout-out to dollypopup - my wonderful beta. Honestly, without her this story wouldn’t even exist. Thank you so much for helping me shape this fic, listening to all my ramblings and world-building ideas, as well as putting up with all my panicking and general writing angst. You’re an absolute dream and I don’t think I can ever thank you enough. 
> 
> And finally, a huge thank you to the mods. Not only for organising this amazing event, but for being so accommodating and considerate. I was unable to finish the entire piece for today (life is a nightmare and I swear it hates me), however they have given me permission to post my final three chapters up until the 24th, which basically saved my life. So thank you again! 
> 
> For everyone reading this: I hope you enjoy it, and keep an eye out for the last chapters in the next few days!

**“I find it hard to tell you,**  
**I find it hard to take,**  
**When people run in circles it's a very, very...**  
**Mad world...** ”

– Tears for Fears, _Mad_ _World_

* * *

Death City was always at its most beautiful at night. The burning heat of the day had long since passed with the setting sun, and the sky faded from soft azure to deep indigo. Golden stars glimmered above, shining brilliantly. Taking centre stage, however, was the black, globulous moon, surrounded by stars highlighting its chilling beauty. The sight of such a threatening object would usually strike fear into the hearts of whoever laid eyes upon it. However, this moon was a symbol of triumph for the people of Death City. A symbol of rebirth. It marked the end of the Demon God Asura’s reign of terror and madness, and the start of their new Lord Death ascending to his role as ruler of their world. The age of the Black Moon would be one of peace and prosperity now that the Kishin had been sealed away.

On this particular night, when the rest of the city was tucked up in their beds and dreaming the hours away, an Angel of Death was standing on a rooftop and staring up at the moon. It cast no light, only a sombre gloom. That Angel couldn’t help but wonder how dark it must have been up there, how void of light it was. It was probably so lonely up there as well. Her stomach knotted at the thought of a certain friend of hers, who sacrificed everything for them so this new age could begin.

 _“Hey, Maka,”_ came a metallic voice from the scythe in her hand. Maka Albarn was quickly pulled out of her thoughts and glanced to the side. Her eyes met the blade, just in time to catch the shimmer across it before the face of Soul “Eater” Evans appeared like a ghost reflected in a mirror. He wore an expression of solemnity, the slightest frown. _“Target in sight. Let’s get this over with.”_

The jade-coloured gaze moved from the weapon, her thoughts drifting away from the moon, and the blonde meister turned her attention down to the street below them. The streets seemed empty, quiet. _Too_ quiet. It was only the slightest movement of a shadow that hinted to any sign of life. Shadows shifted again, before a shape stepped out of the darkness, unaware that it was being watched. The silhouette now had a much clearer shape – a humanoid monstrosity which appeared to be a grotesque joker. Its wide, twisted grin remained permanently stuck on the sickly pale face, and the hollow black eyes showed no emotion. It - one of Asura’s last few remaining Clowns - looked from side to side, clutching tightly onto something in his taloned hand, unaware he was still being watched.

Maka smirked and tightened her grip on her partner’s handle. Their souls were linked to such a degree that she didn’t even need to make a signal to show she was ready. Soul already could sense it.

Like a cat, her lithe muscles tightened, before she leapt down from her position above suddenly. The curved blade of the Death Scythe caught the faint light which glimmered from the stars, causing the weapon to flash in the dark. By the time the Clown had caught sight of the brief spark, it was already too late.

With one elegant, fluid motion, the teenaged girl had brought the weapon down upon the Clown with a ferocious cry of “Devil-Hunt Slash!”. The blade suddenly grew, becoming more jagged and iridescent in colour. There was true beauty in the sight, and a satisfying triumph when the scythe successfully sliced through the Clown’s torso. The creature released a repulsive shriek of agony before it crumpled to the cobbled ground below, dropping the object which it had been holding onto.

After dusting off her blue pleated skirt calmly, Maka straightened upright and beamed to herself. When she spoke, her words came out light and carefree.

“Well, that was easy!”

Ever since Asura’s defeat, dealing with the last few remaining Clowns on the Earth had become simpler. If anything, it felt like more of a chore now than an actual mission for most meisters. The longer Asura was locked away on the moon, the weaker his madness wavelength became, thus the Clowns themselves also weakened. Even if they continued to make various failed attempts at defying the DWMA, it never got them very far. Just like on this particular night.

A bright flash of light engulfed the scythe Maka had been holding, so that a teenaged boy replaced it a moment later. Soul stretched lazily, casting a bored glance at the disintegrating creature crumpled before them.

“So this is the Clown that stole the thing, eh?” he all but yawned, observing his meister with a raised eyebrow when she skipped over the body of the Clown and picked up the object which had been discarded beside it. When she held up the object, studying it with interest, it caught the dim light and glimmered like the stars above them. “And I’m guessing that’s the thing in question.”

Hanging from her hands was nothing more than a simple silver chain with a large locket. It was not a particularly special piece of jewellery, containing no ornamental designs on decorations, aside from the word “DIJINN” engraved on its back. After scrutinising it with her piercing emerald gaze, Maka gave a firm nod and put the chain over her head for safe keeping. It dangled from her neck, a perfect fit, with the locket falling just below her bust.

“It’s definitely the magic tool that went missing from the archives,” she confirmed, tapping the locket to reinforce her message. “Who knows what it does, though.”

“Well it must do _something_ , otherwise the Clown wouldn’t have stolen it.”

With an eye-roll and a light smirk, Maka muttered something about “Captain Obvious” before sauntering off back in the direction of the DWMA. Her partner followed along behind her, his posture slouched over as he stepped in time with his meister. The girl in question was examining the necklace she wore once again, frowning slightly at the word engraved into the silver.

“DIJINN…” she mumbled to herself as she mulled over the word in her mind. It was definitely familiar. “It sounds a lot like genie. You know, those things which are supposed to grant wishes?” Maka piped up again as she shot her partner a goofy grin, dangling the locket in front of his red eyes. “Maybe that’s what this thing does as well!”

“What, like BREW?”

“It’s just an idea.”

The two fell into a contented silence as they continued walking, Maka gazing up at the moon distantly. Her scythe picked up on the way her eyes seemed to glaze over, the way her line of vision never faltered away from the black orb suspended in the sky. Soul knitted his brows together at the sight of his meister and cleared his throat pointedly.

“You’re thinking about Crona again?” His face wore an expression of sympathy, which caused Maka to sigh.

“It’s hard not to think about them at night,” she replied bluntly. Sometimes she would sit and contemplate how different life could be had Crona not trapped themselves on the moon. It had been just over a year since they had defeated Asura, and Maka still felt a continual guilt tugging at her heart strings whenever she looked up at the night sky. She still had yet to fulfil her promise and get Crona back home, and that ate her up inside.

Unfortunately, life had prevented any action being made in retrieving her friend from their prison. The tentative treaty with the Witch Coven meant the Kid had been reluctant to send out an official rescue party, in fear of angering Mabaa and her associates with the act of saving someone who the witches considered to be a traitor. It was bad enough that Death City was housing both Free and Eruka, who were also rather _disliked_ (to put it gently) by the Coven, due to their former ties to Medusa. Even attempting to go one step further and bring back Crona would have most likely broken the fragile bond which had been formed between witches and the DWMA. Besides that, everyone had just ended up being far too _busy_. Soul and Maka themselves were always being sent off on missions now, it seemed. Cleaning up after Clowns seemed to be the most common of those.

Soul frowned to himself, feeling a similar guilt that he knew his meister was experiencing. Maybe if that DIJINN thing could grant wishes, he’d bring Crona back from the moon. It would certainly bring a smile back to Maka’s face.

In an attempt to bring back the shine to her eyes, Soul cracked a toothy grin at his partner.

“Cheer up, Tiny Tits. Your moping is cramping my cool style,” he teased, knowing full-well that the former insult was nothing more than a joking nickname now. “As the ‘Last Death Scythe’, I’ve got a reputation to uphold. Got to continue showing off all my greatness. So I can’t have my own meister sulking. That just drags my reputation down.”

Maka snorted in response to him, a playful smile pulling at her features. “Honestly, you should listen to yourself. Ever since you became a Death Scythe, you’ve been sounding more and more like Black☆Star. I can’t deal with that!” she snickered.

Soul turned around, his devilish grin just challenging her to continue. “Oh yeah?” The humour was thick in his tone, matching the glint in Maka’s eyes. The two of them frequently had their “spats”; light-hearted moments of teasing which never really meant anything at all. A light bit of banter to brighten the dark nights was harmless. Maka always considered it harmless at least, hence why she continued with her own retort laced with a giggle.

“Yeah! The way you continue, sometimes I wish you had never become a Death Scythe!”

For a fleeting moment, time held its breath.

Then, the world fell into chaos.

A bright, blinding light seemed to engulf Maka, smothering her senses. The world seemed to blur around her, the colours leaking into each other like watercolour paints spreading across a blank canvas. Those vivid shades overwhelmed her vision, almost blinding her. A gasp was caught in her throat as she tried to call out to Soul and catch a glimpse of him through the lights. But she was unable to make him out at all.

Her body felt numb, as though her soul was disconnected from her mortal flesh. It felt as though she was spinning, everything whizzing by in a blur of colour so quickly that Maka was unable to process the overload on her senses. Like being caught in the middle of a wild storm. The wind began to pick up, tearing at her body and whipping up her hair and clothes. Her shouts were drowned out by the monstrous roar of the gale. It was drowning her, suffocating her, crushing her.

For the briefest second, Maka Albarn thought she was dying.

* * *

Suddenly, it stopped. The wind simply dropped with no prior warning, and the world ceased its frantic spinning. Maka breathed in deeply in an attempt to steady her nerves and collect herself once more. Slowly, she opened her eyes.

She instantly regretted doing so. The moment her vision returned, her knees almost gave out under her.

It appeared as though Maka had not moved from the exact same spot she had been standing in before. However, her surroundings certainly were not familiar. If anything, she was in a nightmarish version of Death City. The homes which had once surrounded the street and loomed above were falling to ruin, crumbling away as though each and every one had been caught in a dreadful fire. There were scorch marks streaking what remained of the walls and the air felt heavy with ash. Every window was smashed and broken, showing no signs of life beyond their frames. A rotten stench of decay slammed into Maka, making her want to heave with disgust.

Her first thought was that she’d been dragged into hell.

These overwhelming distractions meant that it took a moment for Maka to realise that a certain someone was missing. When it finally did dawn on her, she released a strangled gasp and began frantically looking down the street.

“Soul?!”

He was gone, nowhere in sight. Somehow, Maka Albarn had ended up completely alone. Her thoughts became frantic as she tried to go over exactly what had just happened. Had she been attacked? Had someone separated Soul from her? Was this all just some sort of spell or hallucination? 

“ _Soul_?!” Maka cried out again, her voice raising an octave as panic began to set in. Still, there was no sign of him. The panic made her blood run hot with adrenalin, fight or flight instincts kicking in. So she ran, out of the empty street into a just-as-uninhabited main square. Death City was a ghost town. When she called out for her weapon again, her voice rang and echoed around her, seeming to swell and fill the entire city with her desperate cry. 

The only reaction she received was the distant sound of birds flying away in panic from the sound, the beat of their wings like distant thunder in the night. Maka shuddered and instinctively turned in the direction the noise had come from, gazing up into the sky. 

Emerald eyes widened in terror at the sight she saw.

High above the ruined Death City, the moon hung in the sky. Its yellow face grinned down at the world, sniggering at the carcass of the city and the lone girl standing, confused, amongst the rubble. Any trace of the black blood shell which had surrounded the moon was gone. The stars had seemingly been swallowed up and vanished. But what was most significant was that the grimacing moon sat suspended on a backdrop of vermilion.

The sky was **red**.

When Maka breathed in, she could feel the madness swirl through her lungs like fumes. She could make out the distinctive scent of insanity hanging in her nose, the light brushes and shudders as the wavelength danced across her flesh. The hairs on her arms pricked upwards in response. The air was thick, viscous like blood. It felt heavy when she breathed, causing her mind to swirl as the world became a blur before her. 

The red sky was thick with the madness wavelength of the Kishin.

An unbidden gasp fell out of her throat as the meister staggered back, her wide eyes never once leaving the sight of the scarlet heavens above her. This was all wrong. Her brain was unable to compute the images her eyes sent to it. It was something she just could not seem to process; the Kishin and Crona should have both been trapped up on the moon, encased in the black blood. How was the moon back to that leering, disgusting face? Where was Asura? Where was Crona? Why was the sky so full of insanity? 

This made no sense.

Suddenly, Maka picked up the sense of another soul behind her. The pigtailed girl whipped round in a flash, but before she had a chance to react, a figure barrelled into her. It pounced with such speed, Maka saw no more than a blur. The next thing she knew, her head was being slammed into a brick wall behind her, eliciting a pained yelp with the force of the blow. Stars and spots of vivid colour flooded her vision, temporarily blinding her. The shrill ringing in her ears made it just as hard to keep a sense of balance. 

Maka probably would have stumbled, had it not been for her attacker shoving her against the wall again and pinning her in place with an arm to her throat. It crushed against her windpipe painfully, leaving the stunned meister gasping and wheezing.

“What the fuck?” came out a voice through the muzzy-blur of Maka’s hearing. Feminine. Relatively high-pitched. Brooklyn accent. Maka knew that voice well. She cracked open one green eye, barely managing to choke out the name getting smothered down physically by the force on her neck.

“Patty?”

There was no question about it; the person who had attacked was most certainly Patricia Thompson. Maka would recognise her anywhere. Yet there was something off about the young girl standing before her. Her cerulean eyes were hard as steel, her teeth bared in a ferocious snarl. The fire burning in her blood was virtually impossible to miss. A silver gun, Maka instantly identified as Liz’s weapon form, was held firmly in the girl’s hand and was being jabbed unforgivingly under Maka’s chin. A large scar ran down the left side of the American girl’s face, starting at her temple and ending parallel with her nose. It was a sign of some sort of conflict Patty had clearly been struggling through. The thirst for blood in her brilliant blue irises made that conflict just as apparent.

“Shut up,” hissed Patty as she thrust the barrel of the gun into Maka’s flesh harder. It was a cold kiss of metal. “What kind of fucked up joke is this?”

“What--?”

“That bastard’s messing with us again. Making Clowns to look like our friends is twisted even for him. Or did the witch send you?”

Confusion flooded over Maka, adding more to the overwhelming lack of clarity she had experienced ever since she had opened her eyes to the red skies above them. Patty was her friend; she couldn’t comprehend why the shorter girl was threatening her in such a way. Acting so violent towards her.

She sucked in a breath, trying to turn her face away from the weapon being shoved at her.

“Patty, what are you--?” her question was cut off by the Thompson sister releasing the tiniest of giggles. The laughter was far from jovial, however. A shiver ran down Maka’s spine at the sound.

“Heh. Gotta give them credit, though. They did a good job,” Patricia’s eyes were trailing up and down Maka’s form, soaking in every minute detail. The entire scene playing out felt predatory, causing the ash-blonde to squirm with discomfort in a small attempt to loosen the pressure on her throat. “Fucking psychos; they really love screwing with us. Got my hopes up and everything when I saw you.”

Why was her own friend being so hostile towards her? Patricia Thompson clearly seemed to think that Maka wasn’t really Maka. Which the pigtailed meister in question couldn’t understand at all.

“Patty, it’s me! Maka!” she managed to rasp out, her words sounding jumbled with panic to her own ears. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about! What’s going on?” Again, she was cut-off when Patty all but shrieked at her:

“SHUT _UP_!” Her soul had spiked with anger, and the gun was removed from under Maka’s chin and instead placed right at the side of her head, just above the ear. Maka’s nerves went into paralysis at the contact. “You can’t be Maka. I’ll blow your pretty little brains out right here and now if you say that again, bitch!”

Out of the corner of her eye, Maka just about caught a flash of light. It wasn’t blinding; just a faint glimmer. Liz had appeared, reflected in the cold metal of the gun. Her voice was soothing when she spoke, yet still firm. Still Liz. _“Patty, calm down. You’re letting the madness get to you again.”_

Both Maka and Patricia silently bristled, steadying their breathing with a few gentle exhales at the calm radiating from Elizabeth. The elder Thompson just seemed to know exactly what she was talking about. The thing was, Maka had felt it too. She could easily gauge the crushing severity of the madness wavelength which polluted the air like a toxin. It came as no surprise, when she thought it through, that it would affect people and cloud their judgement, if that was what had happened to Patty. The tension had released slightly from Patty’s shoulders and arms, giving Maka an opportunity to blurt out.

“Liz, Patty, listen. I promise you it’s me! Maka Albarn,” she babbled, her voice edged with an inch of antagonism. The girl was hardly fond of getting shoved around and held at gunpoint by a friend. The panic and confusion of the entire situation certainly didn’t help her current mood. “Honestly, I have no idea what’s going on, but you have to believe me. It’s… _me_. And if you don’t believe me I’ll…” A pause. A nervous smile crept onto her face in an attempt to lighten the situation to at least a degree. “I’ll give you the worst “Maka Chop” of your lives.”

For a moment, both Thompson sisters went quiet. Patty was looking her over again, frowning slightly. Maka could feel her heart pounding in her ears, her eyes silently begging the girl to trust her. Then, a metallic sounding sigh echoed into the night, and Liz spoke up once more.

_“Patty, what if she is Maka?”_

The younger sister turned to glare at the weapon she held, frowning at the face of Liz yet still refusing to relinquish her grip on their meister friend.

“You know it _can’t_ be her. It’s not possible,” Patricia hissed in response, ignoring the girl in question when she huffed indignantly. Elizabeth sighed again, exasperated.

 _“And it’s also virtually impossible for him to construct a Clown which looks **exactly like her** when he never actually met her.”_ There was logic and reason behind that response which Patty seemed to pick up on, for her frown dropped slightly and she glanced once more at the pigtailed teen out of the corner of her eye. _“Look, I don’t exactly know what’s going on here either. But we could take her to the prof. He should be able to tell if she’s really Maka.”_

Patty straightened her back and released her arm from Maka’s neck. The meister wobbled and made a few gasps for air, ignoring how Patty continued to scrutinise over her. When the blonde girl spoke up again, her tone sounded rather sulky and immature. Frustrated. That was more like the Patty Thompson Maka knew.

“Fine. But I’m not taking any chances.”

The gun in her hand was raised, then sent crashing down onto the scythe meister’s head with brute force before she had a chance to react. Maka’s world was plunged into darkness.

* * *

Death, her head was throbbing like the pounding after-thought of a severe migraine. It hurt. She was disorientated. The lighting was blindingly artificial. Burning white. The space around felt hollow and empty because of it. _Where the hell was she?_

Maka groaned and sat up slowly, her surroundings swaying into place as her sight settled and her environment became clearer. White walls, bright lights, a cold stone floor. The acoustics of the room seemed to echo even her breathing. It was all so claustrophobic, suffocating.

The pigtailed girl tried to blink away the light, inhaling deeply in an attempt to cease the pounding in her head. After finally being able to be rid of the hammering in the back of her skull, Maka was able to take in her surroundings properly. She was sitting on what appeared to be an examination table in a doctor’s examination room. Ahead of her was Patty, who was doodling in a large notebook and humming to herself. When the weapon noticed the other girl was sitting upright, her eyes seemed to light up. All the ferocity from before was gone now that they were away from the madness wavelength, it seemed.

“Ah, you’re up!” she chirped, waving excitedly. “Sorry if I hit you too hard. Got a little carried away there. He’ll be here real soon, then we can get this all sorted out.” There was a momentary pause as her eyes seemed to darken, the faintest hint of a frown taking hold. Even her voice dropped an octave when she opened her mouth again. “But, don’t forget. If it turns out I was right, I _will_ kill you.”

A glare was shot back in response, Maka’s features set and defiant. Patty, on the other hand, instantly reverted to her bubbly self, and went back to humming cheerfully to herself whilst scribbling away with her brightly coloured crayons. An awkward quiet fell between the two girls. Maka twiddled her thumbs, waiting for something to happen. A brief attempt at idle small-talk was made, yet it didn’t last long.

“Where’s Liz?”

“Ehhhh… dunno. Probably screwing Kilik in the showers again.”

“Wait, what?!”

Before _that_ conversation went any further, the door to the room was suddenly thrown open with a tremendous crash. Patty jumped to her feet at the sound, grinning like an idiot as she gave a cheeky salute to the figure who had just entered. He rolled in on a desk chair with his lab coat flapping out behind him, his glasses gleaming in the horribly artificial lights.

Professor Franken Stein stopped his chair only a few inches in front of Maka, staring at her intently. His stitched face was set in a frown as he chewed on the unlit cigarette hanging out of his mouth. Maka instantly opened her mouth to speak, the questions in her mind about to tumble free, but she was quickly silenced by a single finger being raised in the air. His other hand reached up and twisted the screw jutting out of his head once. Twice. Three times. He was examining every inch of her. Maka could feel his soul perception poking and prodding at her, cutting her open with his eyes as though she was simply a lab experiment for observation.

Finally, he spoke.

“Hm. I can see why this caused some problems above ground. You were right to bring her here, Patty,” Stein drawled out, eyes glancing vaguely in her direction. The man eventually rolled backwards, before sticking his head out of the threshold to the room and calling out, “Okay. You can all come in now.”

Again, before Maka had a chance to speak, a group of people stepped into the now quite crowded room. Marie Mjölnir and Blair were both gawking at the girl sitting before them, their eyes wide and watery. Spirit Albarn in comparison looked like he was struggling to keep a neutral expression, and that he was having to force himself from bolting forward towards the teen. The silence which hung was thick and heavy, smothering them all.

Marie was the first to speak, her voice soft and trembling. “Is that…?” 

Stein gave a curt nod in the group’s direction, the faintest smirk playing on his lips. Behind his large glasses, Maka could see the corners of his olive green eyes crinkling slightly. Almost out of happiness.

“I have no idea how this has happened, but Patty, you were wrong. This isn’t a Clown sent by Asura,” the sardonic voice sounded flat, betraying any small hint that Maka had previously noticed of cheer. “This is the real Maka Albarn.”

Throughout the entire exchange, Maka had been staring at them all with confusion evident on her face. Her confusion only increased when Patty’s jaw dropped and Marie made a sharp gasp, her hands covering her mouth as tears began to cascade down her face from her one good caramel eye. Whatever had been holding Spirit back was gone, for he shot forward and took his daughter up in his arms, hugging her so tightly Maka felt as though her ribs were about to be crushed. She almost snapped, ready to yell at him, but was stopped by a heart-wrenching sob being released from the man.

“Oh my Death, Maka. Don’t ever leave me again,” Spirit’s words were muffled as he buried his face into his daughter’s shoulder, his entire body trembling. Maka’s eyes widened as she felt the hot tears dampening the fabric of her uniform whilst her father continued to cling onto her tightly, as though he was afraid she would disappear if he dared loosen his grip. “Don’t ever leave me again. Papa loves you so much, Maka. So, so much.”

“Papa…?”

“Oh, kitten!!”

Another pair of arms were wrapping around the girl from behind and Maka found herself effectively sandwiched between two weeping adults. Blair was lightly kissing the top of her ash-blonde hair, muttering about how much she missed her precious little kitten. Even through the tears, Maka could hear the shadow of a smile when Blair spoke. The cat seemed more joyous and relieved than Spirit, who in comparison was overwhelmed and still sobbing.

Meanwhile, Patty watched the entire scene in shock, eyes large and mouth still gaping. When she turned to Stein, who had stood up to put an arm around the shoulders of a crying Marie, the American girl was unable to hide the squeak in her voice.

“Are you sure it’s her?”

Stein raised an eyebrow and glanced at his student, then gave her a small nod. He was smiling more warmly now, his face matching the happiness in Marie’s eye. “My soul perception never lies,” was all he needed to say.

Patty’s shock morphed into a wide grin. A moment later, she hurled herself at the group of three to join in on the hugs, throwing her arms around Maka’s neck and squeezing tightly. Her laughter was loud in the meister’s ear, yet Maka much preferred to hear the childish, delighted cry of “Yay!” over the anger she had experienced earlier.

Yet still, whilst everyone was crying and clinging on to her, Maka found herself with more questions than what she had started off with. She was overawed by everything that was playing out around her, barely able to respond to all the affection being shoved down on her. Her mind remained unable to process it all. The red sky, the madness wavelength, Patty’s earlier ferocity, the adult’s overpowering joy at seeing her. All questions and no answers 

“I don’t understand,” Maka eventually managed to ask over the sobbing and giggles which filled her ears. “What’s going on?”

“There’s no way you can be here.”

Everyone instantly looked round to follow where the voice had come from. A teenaged boy stood in the doorway, staring straight at Maka with a piercing scarlet pair of eyes. The circles under his eyes were darker than she had ever seen them, and his ivory white hair was dishevelled and unkempt. Soul “Eater” Evans frowned severely in her direction, causing Maka’s heart to skip a beat.

“There’s no way you can be here,” he repeated, his voice monotone and just as lifeless as his eyes. “Because Maka Albarn has been dead for over two years.”


	2. Chapter 2

There was adrenaline coursing through his veins as he pushed himself, further and further towards breaking point. The built-up pressure inside the tunnels pushed down upon him, his muscles ready to snap under the strain. Hot sweat beaded down his forehead and glistened in the artificial lights. Yet he still pushed on. He had to keep going. He had to get stronger. He was going to beat them all. That was his only goal now, his only motivation. He had to do it for all of them. He had to live up to the boastings of his immature past-self and prove to everyone that he was going to surpass the level of God.

Tsubaki worried too much about her meister. It was hard not to. She hated standing on the sidelines and watching him as he poured every ounce of his being, every breath, every heartbeat, into nothing more than _training_. Nowadays, in his confused mind, it seemed to be the only thing worth doing. All of his frustrations were vented out on to the punching bag suspended from the rounded ceiling. And oh, how his fists pounded on it. A constant rhythm. The beat of war drums.

With each blow, he shouted, he cried out, he roared and bellowed until there was no voice left in him. It was the same every day. Black☆Star was just so full of _rage_. She had tried to help him keep a level head. Death, how she tried. Nothing seemed to reach him anymore. The only missions he took were the ones where he was guaranteed to be able to beat the shit out of something. Preferably a Clown. Or anything with those damned three Kishin eyes. Scouting missions weren’t for him anymore. He wanted to _hurt_ things. He wanted to _kill_. He wanted revenge.

First, Maka left them. Then Kid. Then Akane and Clay and everyone else. It was almost no wonder Black☆Star preferred to shut himself away in the tunnel’s training gym most days, or just lash out whenever he had the chance.

_(He had once admitted to his weapon partner, in a rare moment of weakness, that he felt responsible for losing them. If he had been stronger, he’d said, maybe he could have somehow prevented it all. If he’d just been stronger...)_

Nowadays, his bandaged knuckles were constantly red. From his blood or that of someone else, it was hard to tell. The boy rarely boasted anymore, either. Rather than ranting about wanting power, he inflicted injuries on the enemies of what remained of the DWMA to _show_ what power he had. He had learned, it seemed, that showing was better than telling.

The shadow weapon quietly watched him continue with his merciless barrage on the innocent boxing equipment, and a heavy sigh escaped her. Just like every single day. The same thing, over and over again. The same punches, the same curses, the same scars made visible with every movement he made.

Death, he had so many scars now. All over his arms and chest. The ones in his mind may not have been visible, but they were just as prominent. And Tsubaki wished that she could have done more as a weapon to shield her meister; to accept some of those injuries and protect him. He would never let her do that, though.

“Black☆Star,” Tsubaki called out to him, causing him to pause at the sound of her voice. She forced her smile in place when her meister glanced in her direction, still making the effort to bring some warmth to their claustrophobic and cold “home”. “That should be enough for today, and Angela’s probably finished by now. Why don’t we get her and have dinner together?”

The reply she received was nothing more than a grunt of acknowledgement, yet the sight of Black☆Star running a towel over his face was proof enough that he was calling it a day, officially. Tsubaki found, at that single movement, the smile reached her eyes so much more easily and naturally.

Their walk together was a comfortable silence, the only sounds being the echoes of their footsteps which bounced off the rounded walls either side of them. Tsubaki always hummed to herself, and Black☆Star was content just to listen to his partner. The silence between the two was as golden as the weapon’s beautiful soul. Of course, the silence never lasted long. Not after a certain third party joined their group.

It was a routinely occurrence for the Star☆Clan child and his weapon to pick up the young Angela Leon from her training sessions with the witches Tabatha Butterfly and Taruho Firefly. It also became routine that whenever the meister and weapon duo were approaching the room where said training session would take place, the chameleon witch would suddenly hurtle out through the threshold, scamper up the ninja’s back, sit herself down on his shoulders and, with a particularly vicious tug on his blue hair, demand a piggy-back ride all the way to the canteen. For some reason, Black☆Star never turned the kid down.

So there they were, all three together, the child happily chattering away about how much she was improving, whilst Tsubaki humoured her with compliments and bright smiles. Black☆Star was quiet, silently brooding. Yet even with his slightly lowered head, Tsubaki didn’t miss the briefest glimmer of pride across his blue eyes.

Routine ended there and then, abruptly. A girl came hurtling around the corner, almost crashing straight into Tsubaki. When she dusted herself off and caught sight of the trio, however, her sapphire eyes suddenly began to sparkle brilliantly, like jewels.

“Black☆Star! Tsubaki! I was looking everywhere for you two,” Anya Hepburn gabbled hurriedly, yet her words came out as clipped and proper as they always were. She pushed a golden lock behind her ear, brushing her fringe out of her eyes. As she spoke, her black, pleated skirt as well as the curled ends of hair which hung from her high ponytail bounced and swayed. “You both have to come with me. Quickly.”

Before anyone had a chance to argue, Anya had grabbed Tsubaki’s hand and was dragging her down the winding passages at break-neck speed. Black☆Star huffed and rolled his eyes in exaggeration, ignoring Angela’s question of where they were going, as he trudged along after them.

Their trip through the winding, twisting tunnels led them to a room Black☆Star _despised_ with every fragment of his soul. It didn’t have a name – most of the inhabitants of the tunnels would ask if others were going to visit “The Memorial”. And really, that was all it was: an empty room, with the only thing of any significance being the many names which had been carved into the white walls. The names of all their fallen friends. It was like a war memorial. He felt miserable going in there.

It brought back too many bad memories.

Once they entered, Black☆Star’s eyes instinctively trailed over to the spots of the wall Tsubaki had pointed out to him when they had visited the room for the first time over a year ago now. Even though he couldn’t read, he had learnt the exact positions of the names which were important to him with her help. **Ox Ford**. **Akane☆Hoshi**. **Clay Sizemore**. **Hiro Pendragon**. He noticed Anya’s back stiffen when her gaze momentarily landed on the spots where he knew **Meme Tatane** , **Tsugumi Harudori** and **Eternal Feather** had been written.

“Oi, Anya. Why’d you drag us here?” he grumbled, trailing his eyes over to the far wall where he knew **Maka Albarn** was located, right beside **Kami Ōgama** , her mother. It seemed fitting that the two Albarn women were together in the end. “You know the great me can’t stand this place--”

He froze.

His eyes had reached the point he was expecting. Yet they did not _read_ the squiggled words he was expecting. The names had been blocked by a girl, his age, wearing an outfit of white and pale blue. A uniform he had never seen before. It looked angelic. Heavenly.

But those pigtails. Those green eyes which locked onto his blue when she turned her head.

He knew her. He knew her _so well_.

She smiled at him, awkwardly. Beside her, Patty gave a cheerful wave and Soul nodded in his direction.

Tsubaki was the first to move. She stepped forward with hesitation, one hand reaching to touch the other girl’s arm. And when she made contact with the flesh she thought was a figment of her imagination, she found that Maka was, instead, real. Tangible. Warm: nothing like the icy flesh Tsubaki had grasped when Soul had carried Maka out from Baba Yaga Castle. Nothing like the cold corpse she didn’t want to let go of. Tsubaki gasped, then released her breath with a harsh whisper.

“Is it really you?”

Instinctively, Black☆Star felt his blood boil. His first thought was that somebody, Anya, was playing a messed up joke on him and his weapon partner. And Death, he wasn’t ever going to let anyone fuck around with Tsubaki’s feelings. He turned to Anya and glared, forcing Angela to cling on tightly as she wobbled from the sudden movement.

“What the fuck, Anya?! This isn’t funny!”

Anya flinched from his outburst, but before she could respond, a shout from the pigtailed girl snapped Black☆Star’s attention away. Maka was staring at them, fire in her jade eyes.

“Black☆Star, you dick! Stop bullying Anya before I punch you.” But despite the threat, the affection in her voice was audible. Black☆Star blinked back at her, mouth agape. Maka simply shot him a smirk in return, before turning her attention back to Tsubaki, who still had a trembling hand held onto her arm. “It’s really me.”

For a moment, Tsubaki was still, trying to process the fact that this was real. _Maka_ was real. Right there. In the flesh. But when the tears began to stream down from her indigo eyes, her mask cracked with a single sob. A breath later, she was gathering the shorter girl up into her arms tightly. The blonde meister instantly returned the hug, patting her back gently.

Reassuringly.

Her eyes were watery, as well.

Black☆Star could only gape at the scene, and he barely heard Angela question who it was. Slowly, it began to sink in. This was no joke. This wasn’t a fucked up prank Anya was pulling on him. She was standing right in front of him. _Maka was back_. Despite all the odds, she was there. Somehow, miraculously, defying death.

His body ran on autopilot; gently removing the child from his broad shoulders and placing her beside Anya, carefully. He told the witch child to stay right there, before suddenly, his feet were moving on their own accord, pounding against the cold floor. He almost barrelled into both Tsubaki and the other girl, but skidded to a stop before he could cause any damage. A wide grin broke out across his face as a strong hand reached forward to ruffle the Maka’s ash-blonde hair. Even the proud Black☆Star almost choked on his words when he spoke, his façade slipping.

“Long time no see, Albarn.”

* * *

Dinner that night was one of the most surreal experiences Black☆Star’d had in a very long time. There was Maka Albarn, very much alive, eating with them. Talking with them. Laughing with them after they got over the initial shock of seeing her in the flesh. It was as though nothing had changed. For a long while, nobody seemed to want to bring up the obvious question of how she had got there. In their minds, she had been dead for well over two years now. There was no way she could have been sitting with them.

But, there she was, as alive as a beating heart. And Black☆Star had missed her, missed the happiness, the ease. He was enjoying listening as the girls sitting across the table from him chatted away, reminiscing about their early days at the DWMA, back before it was a ghost in their minds. For a moment, he felt like he could forget everything. Forget the red skies outside, the madness and chaos. He could shut off from it. For a moment.

Patty was enthusiastically babbling away to Maka and Tsubaki, who laughed at what she’d said. Kim and Jackie were grinning at the trio as well, their fingers intertwined, and beside them, Anya and Liz seemed to be in a deep and important conversation about manicures.

Beside Liz, Kilik was busy trying to get Fire and Thunder to eat their meal without throwing it around and Harvar, as usual, was silently brooding as he stared at Anya.

Then there was Soul, who had remained oddly... quiet. Despite the fact the meister he hadn’t seen in two years was sitting opposite him. Yet, the scythe seemed more interested in playing with his food, pushing the peas around his plate with his fork.

Black☆Star couldn’t help but think that, although he was over the moon Maka was back, as were most other people… something about the scene wasn’t _right_. It didn’t fit. Other people should have been there with them.

Eventually, the various conversations came to a natural end and a pleasant quiet surrounded the table. They all sat and ate their food soundlessly. But they could all feel it. There were questions burning in the air. They reverberated through everyone’s very souls. They all wanted their answers.

It was Maka who had the courage to first break the silence.

“So… I really died?” she asked, wincing slightly at how morbid it sounded. The eyes of everyone else around the table snapped up, away from their plates to land on the pigtailed girl. The once pleasant calm suddenly became uncomfortable. “Can you guys tell me what happened? Like… why the sky is red and… stuff?”

Maka felt horribly awkward asking, but Death, she had to know. She needed answers more than anyone. Patty had dragged her to the memorial, showing her and her mother’s tombstone. Yet it was still rather hard to get her head around the fact that she was supposedly _dead_. And so much else had changed, it seemed. Maka couldn’t help but wonder if she was having some sort of crazy nightmare.

It was obvious that no one was comfortable answering the question, judging from the way her friends fidgeted uncomfortably, glancing at each other. The tension hung in the air for a moment, before finally, after what felt like hours, Anya cleared her throat. She folded her hands in her lap, straightening her back in an attempt to keep an air of regality about her.

“I am afraid that I personally do not know the entire story, as I was not witness to it all,” she began, each word properly enunciated. “From what I do know, both you and Medusa were killed in the fight against Arachne Gorgon, during the DWMA’s attack on Baba Yaga Castle. As I said, I do not know the full details, nor do I believe our friends are comfortable talking about it. However, I can tell you that the DWMA were forced to abort the remainder of the mission and swiftly retreat after you…” Anya paused and cleared her throat, evidentially uncomfortable. “After you died.”

Black☆Star couldn’t help but notice how horrified Maka looked from the news she just heard.

Maka shook her head slightly, very much aware of the fact her face had probably gone quite pale at that stage. But she had to stay focused and find out the truth, even if it was unpleasant. So she gave a small nod in response, eager to learn more.

“So, what happened after that, then? My death alone couldn’t have possibly turned the sky red.”

“You’d be surprised,” Harvar suddenly quipped. He sounded as cold as ever, as though he were a soldier in the army. He seemed to be glaring at Maka behind his sunglasses. “Once both you and BJ were gone, the DWMA was lacking meisters with strong enough soul perception. Arachnophobia was able to locate the Kishin--”

“On the moon, of all places!” Kim interrupted quickly, snorting at the absurdity of the situation. Harvar narrowed his eyes at the pink-haired witch, the glare ice cold, before he continued once again.

“Arachnophobia found Asura before us and teamed up with him.”

“The Kishin and Arachnophobia?” Maka repeated, eyes clearly full of surprise at this recent revelation. Everyone else around the table, including the Pot twins, nodded in unison in response.

“Yeah, it’s weird. We know,” Black☆Star muttered, his teeth gritted together. “But from that point on, shit really hit the fan.” When his blue eyes glanced around the table to see if anyone else was willing to consider finishing the story, he found his friends deliberately avoiding his gaze. The Star☆Clan child grunted in annoyance and cracked his knuckles. “Fine, I’ll say it. Asura and Arachnophobia attacked Death City. We were outnumbered completely and Asura had these creepy-ass Clown things that just _wouldn’t die_ , and Arachne brought her entire army along. We were _fucked_. Lord Death was killed by Asura. Death City was pretty much destroyed. We… we lost a lot of people.”

Black☆Star hesitated, taking in a deep breath. When he started up again, his voice was more clipped, and Maka could feel how awful it must have been for them. “That’s why we’re stuck here. We had to fucking run away and with us gone, Asura took over. _That’s_ why the sky is red.”

Seeing how it was affecting her meister, Tsubaki was quick to take over with the explanation. “At least there was an entire tunnel network running under the DWMA. It connected the whole city.”

“Lord Death was clearly paranoid, stocking up empty tunnels to the teeth with backup power and supplies,” Harvar muttered under his breath, causing Liz and Patty to both shoot glares in his direction. Tsubaki ignored the three and continued.

“So, we rebuilt our lives here as best as we could. Blair, Tabatha, and Taruho even used a spell similar to ‘Soul Protect’ on the tunnels, to keep all our souls hidden from Arachnophobia in case they try to hunt us down.” She stopped again, before her voice dropped. She spoke so quietly, it was almost missed by Maka’s well-trained ears. “It helps keep the madness wavelength away.”

So they were underground. Maka felt another piece fall into place in her mind. It explained why everything felt so claustrophobic.

“I see…” she muttered to herself, frowning, before looking around the dinner table. Her eyes counted each and every individual, taking them all in. “Is that why Kid’s not here right now? Is he in charge of the tunnels?” Maka continued pondering over the thought. “He must be busy. I mean, he's always been a great leader: I’m sure he’s doing everything he can to fight Asura…” Her words were only met with silence. So much quiet, in fact, that Maka looked up to her friends once more, worry now lacing her voice. “...Guys?”

Everyone else looked horrified. Liz’s eyes were watering, tears ready to bubble over. Kim, Kilik, Anya and Harvar quickly looked away from the ash-blonde and Tsubaki and Jackie held their breath. Soul and Black☆Star both clenched their teeth, while Patty glared furiously at Maka, death in her eyes. Just like when they had first encountered each other above ground. Maka felt her stomach drop.

“No. You’re wrong,” Patty hissed venomously. Her eyes were darkening once more, soul flickering with seething yet silent rage. “Kid is _gone_ , Maka. He’s been gone for two years.”

Maka was taken aback with the new information. Unable to speak.

Finally, Liz found the courage to speak up. She was shaking like a leaf, physically trying to swallow back the sob lodged in her throat. The tears, however, she was unable to stop.

“Two years ago tomorrow, when Asura and Arachnophobia attacked the DWMA… They took Kid,” she spoke, sounding hollow. Empty. Her voice quivered, fragile. “They _took_ him. They took him and we have no idea what’s happened to him.”

Maka’s stomach dropped. Asura had Kid? The Kishin had _her friend_? Suddenly she felt wobbly, like the world was spinning without an axis. Her blood boiled in her bones, making her heartbeat thrum in her ears. That couldn’t have been possible… The female meister swallowed and hardened her eyes.

“Haven’t you tried to get him back? Haven’t you tried to fight?”

“It’s not that simple, Maka,” Jackie sighed heavily, lowering her eyes. “The DWMA is much weaker than when you were around. Most of the Death Scythes have been killed. We just don’t have the manpower. Trying to attack Arachnophobia _now_? It would be impossible…”

“Bullshit!” Maka snapped suddenly, slamming her hands on the table. “You guys just need to have more courage. Try harder! Haven’t you considered going to the Witch Coven for help?”

Kim scoffed at that, folding her arms over her chest. There was an angry twinge to her turquoise eyes.

“Try harder? Oh Maka, you make it sound _so easy_. You have no idea,” the tanuki witch hissed bitterly in response. “And going to the Witch Coven for help? Impossible. They’re all _dead_. Arachne had them all killed so she could make more Demon Weapons. It was a fucking genocide. There are only a handful of us left now.”

The pigtailed girl flinched, regretting her words instantly. She could feel everyone’s eyes on her, burning into her soul. Maka felt shame washing over her at her outburst. After a mumbled apology with her eyes rooted to the table, the quiet returned again. Her mind was trying to process everything which she had been told, everything which had occurred, when suddenly another thought popped into her head.

“What… what about Crona...?”

Black☆Star raised an eyebrow at her. “What _about_ Crona?”

“What happened to them?”

“We don’t know,” Black☆Star responded again, this time with a shrug. “When Medusa died, we had no way of finding out where they were. Still have no idea. It’s been so long now, though, I doubt they’re alive…”

That was it. The straw which broke the camel’s back. This version of reality was too twisted for Maka to take. It felt like every bone was breaking at once. Like a bullet went through the glass house of her chest. Like the world swallowed her whole. Like all the nerves in her body froze over.

The first tear that fell landed on the table, splattering obviously. Anya was the first to notice, and instantly she stood up and marched over to where the ash-blonde sat.

“It’s been a lot to process tonight, we understand,” the golden-haired princess muttered quietly as she helped Maka to her feet and pulled out a handkerchief from her pocket, which she quickly used to dab away the water from the corners of Maka’s green eyes. “You should get some rest. There’s a spare bunk in my room which you can use. Come on.” Anya gently took the older girl’s hand and quickly led her out of the canteen, barely stopping to give the others a “farewell” or “good night”. Once the two girls had gone, gradually everyone else slowly began to depart, each muttering or grunting their own good byes.

By the end of it all, only Black☆Star and Soul remained seated at the table. The ninja glanced at his albino friend out of the corner of his eye, noticing how the scythe continued just to push his food around his plate aimlessly.

“You know,” he began, causing Soul to briefly glance up. “For someone who's been sulking for the past two years about not having his precious meister, you’re really quiet. What’s wrong with you, Soul?”

Soul cast his crimson eyes away, grunting with a shrug. “Dunno. Just didn’t feel like going down memory lane like the rest of you. It didn’t exactly end well, did it?”

“That’s a load of bull and you know it. You weren’t talking to or even looking at Maka before that!”

His weapon friend remained silent, refusing to respond. So, Black☆Star just continued staring at him. When that failed to get a reaction, he began to prod at the smaller boy’s arm instead, jabbing his finger into his shoulder hard. He kept repeating Soul’s name, as though he were a stuck record, but he only made it a few loops through before Soul shrugged his hand away.

“It was just weird, ’Star! Okay?!” the albino all but shouted, glaring daggers at his best friend. “Maka’s _dead_. I fucking carried her corpse out of Baba Yaga myself. I saw Kid reap her soul.” His tone kept rising, so much so that Soul was beginning to sound hysterical. His voice sounded like it was about to crack. “She shouldn’t be here… she… she shouldn’t… it’s fucking _weird_. She can’t be my meister. It’s… it’s some… some fucked up trick or something. It has to be. She can’t… I want answers! I _deserve_ answers!”

Black☆Star hadn’t seen his friend in this state for a while now. Not since, well… not since Maka died. The scythe looked like he was trying to hold back a sob, as though he was trying to keep his eyes hard and focused. But from the way his irises seemed to ripple, like disrupted water, Black☆Star could see Soul Eater was doing a bad job at it.

Releasing a single heavy sigh, the blue haired ninja patted his friend on the back firmly, wearing a sombre expression.

“I know, Soul. I know…”

* * *

It was early the next morning; after a lumpy serving of porridge for breakfast in the canteen with her hysterically joyful father, that Maka found herself in Stein’s office once more. The professor had wanted a private meeting with her, demanding explanations. If truth be told, those were exactly the same things she wanted as well.

She sat nervously and twiddled her thumbs, observing as Stein scratched his chin in thought. In the background, she could hear Marie rummaging around for something. Meanwhile, the cogs turning in the scientist’s mind were practically visible whilst he mulled over everything Maka had said. And by Death, she had told him _everything_. Every slight detail that was different to this “Red World” (as she had aptly dubbed it in her mind) she found herself in.

She told him how the DWMA had ensured the fall of Arachnophobia, how a team named “Spartoi” had been formed to rescue Kid from the book of Eibon, how they had all defeated the Kishin on the moon with the help of the Witch Coven and Crona. The stories continued on: of Kid’s ascension to Lord Death, how she herself made Soul a Death Scythe, how Marie had revealed her pregnancy with Stein (who was rather unfazed by the news).

Throughout her entire recollection, Stein’s face remained set in stone – a neutral expression. Maka couldn’t tell at all if he believed her or not. It must have sounded incredibly far-fetched. Even she was doubting her own words as she recounted it all. Marie, meanwhile, continued to busy herself with brewing some tea in the background. Though she was not an active participant in the conversation, Maka just knew she was listening in.

However, it was when Maka recounted how she had found herself in the “Red World” that Stein became most interested. He scrutinised over every single aspect, prying for more answers with specific, detailed questions. And when Maka mentioned their run-in with the Clown, something seemed to click inside the professor’s mind.

“DIJINN... Do you still have it?” he drawled lazily, to which Maka nodded and hastily removed the necklace from around her neck. Stein’s hand was held out expectantly, so she dropped the silver locket into his open palm without another word. She continued to watch in silence as Stein stared at the object he now held, giving the screw jutting out of his head a twist to match his thought pattern. His eyebrows knitted together, his teeth clenched tightly around an unlit cigarette and he just sat there, looking at it. Time seemed to draw out slowly. Maka fidgeted in her seat nervously, yet Stein paid her no attention. It was only after a good five minutes of total silence that the man finally spoke once more.

“I don’t know much about DIJINN at all. What I _do_ know is that it was a magic tool created by Eibon.” He held his hand up, allowing the chain to dangle from his long fingers. In the breezeless air, the heavy locket swayed back and forth, catching the bright white lights of the room in its silver surface. “The first prototype for BREW.”

At those words, Maka’s thoughts instantly returned to the conversation she had had with Soul right before she had found herself here. Their own silly little hypothesis at the time may have been correct after all. The blood drained from her cheeks slowly, eyes widening just a bit.

“BREW?” Maka echoed the word with the smallest tremble in her voice. Already, she had a feeling she knew what Professor Franken Stein was about to say. Death, she already felt like she could explain how she ended up in the Red World.

Stein handed the necklace back to his student and nodded. Behind his glasses, his olive eyes were watching her clinically as she put it back over her head and let it dangle from her neck. When he spoke, his words sounded just as detached as his stare.

“Mmm… it’s rumoured to grant wishes.”

She must have been whiter than the walls which surrounded her at that moment. Maka could practically feel every single last drop of colour slowly draining out of her face, pooling itself in the pit of her stomach and rotting there like bile. The dread she felt was lead; heavy and toxic.

“Maka, what was the last thing you said before you found yourself here?”

Her head lowered in shame, gaze drifting off to the far corner of the floor beneath their feet. It all felt so stupid now, so ridiculous and immature. How could she have possibly known this would happen, though? Maka cleared her throat, her eyes still rooted on the floor.

“I wished Soul had never become a Death Scythe.”

Her quiet words were met by silence. It was only the click and clunk of Stein’s screw being twisted which added any life to the scene in that brief, fleeting moment. Maka could feel Marie’s single caramel eye on her back, whilst Stein’s darker ones were drilling into her head.

“I see...” Stein eventually spoke once more, clearing the frigid air with a dry sigh. A hand ran through his silver hair tiredly, and his eyes flickered between his partner and his student. When they finally did settle on Maka again, she found she was unable to read the emotion behind them. “Seeing as you died in our version of reality, you were unable to make your partner a Death Scythe. Soul is still an average weapon. It appears as though your wish came true.”

“But it was a joke! I didn’t mean it at all!” Maka protested instantly, her head snapping up so that her widened eyes could lock on her professor. Unlike Stein, she was much easier to read. Panic and guilt swirled around in her jade irises, and the frantic edge to her voice only strengthened that emotion. However, she calmed down slightly when Marie suddenly stepped forward and put a warm hand on the girl’s shoulder, handing her a mug of freshly brewed tea. Maka accepted the drink with a murmured thanks and sipped it slowly, exhaling as the warmth ran down her throat and soothed the butterflies in her stomach. The demon hammer sent the child a warm smile and sat down beside her, her own cup in hand. Once both women had settled once more, Stein cleared his throat and continued.

“DIJINN remained a prototype for a reason, Maka. Rumour has it that Eibon created it by locking the soul of a genie inside. Problem is, genies are malicious things. They like to… mess around with people,” From the confused look both Marie and Maka gave him, Stein could tell they weren’t quite following what he was saying. His stoic expression remained intact when he drawled out, “The genie inside that little locket deliberately sent you here.”

Marie’s confusion shifted into a frown. Her amber eye narrowed ever so slightly when she glanced at the pendant that hung from Maka’s neck. It all seemed very far-fetched to the Death Scythe. If truth be told, Maka herself was having trouble grasping what Stein was telling them. Unlike Maka, however, Marie was much more vocal about letting her puzzlement be known.

“You mean, a genie did all of this? Why?”

“It’s possible. They are powerful beings and, from what I’ve read about them, they like to... deliberately cause problems for people. To put it lightly,” The way his lips twitched upwards at the end made it almost seem as though Stein found something morbidly amusing about the situation. “I guess you could say that they’re like Afreets with magic.” Suddenly, his eyes snapped back over to Maka, and his frown deepened. “You would be wise, Maka, not to let that DIJINN out of your sight. Who knows what it could do in the wrong hands.”

Maka couldn’t help but gulp then, as her mind raced back to the Clown she and Soul had initially encountered. The Clown who stole DIJINN in the first place. That monster was probably going to use DIJINN to somehow bring back Asura, she suspected. In many ways, it was a blessing Maka had the magic tool now.

She was quickly pulled out of her thoughts when Stein cleared his throat once more, accompanied by the loud clunk of his screw being fiddled with again.

“Now, I have two theories about how you ended up here, if what you told me is to be believed. Either, the genie sent you to a parallel timeline of your own…”

“Like, an alternate dimension?” Marie interrupted, her own curiosity sparking in the very core of her soul. Stein frowned slightly at being cut off, but nodded at the woman before returning his eyes to Maka.

“Something like that. Only one which diverges from a certain point, and then runs alongside your own on a different course. So this dimension split off from the point when you fought Arachne in _your_ timeline,” he explained, pointing at the girl in question. “Only at the point of divergence, you either lived and made Soul a Death Scythe, or you were killed and failed to do so.”

Maka nodded slowly, still baffled. All this talk of alternate dimensions and timelines sounded like the sort of thing she would read about in science fiction novels. She had never expected to actually come into contact with such a bizarre theory. The magic genie she could just about handle. She brushed shoulders with magic on a daily basis. But jumping between dimensions, or whatever this was? That seemed far-fetched, even for her. “I see… What’s your other theory?”

Stein tilted his head to one side lazily, a permanent frown stuck on his face. “That,” he began slowly, his monotone echoing throughout the room, “Or DIJINN actually did contain enough power to rewrite the past and change the world you know to the one you are currently in.”

Both Marie and Maka gasped sharply at the same time, their backs going rigid and stiff at his hypothesis. That sounded even _more_ mind-boggling than the other possibility. Maka’s mouth dropped open, resembling a fish gasping on dry land, before she was able to splutter out a squeak of a question.

“What?”

“You mean, you think that Maka is still in the same world, but DIJINN changed everything so _drastically_?” Marie sounded just as stunned as the female meister. Even her hands wrapped around her tea cup seemed to tremble from the force of the implications of Stein’s other hypothesis. “That locket had the power to kill Maka in the past, revive the Kishin, turn the sky red, destroy everything else, and then dump Maka back here?”

“Is that even possible?”

Stein shrugged in response. “I doubt it. But it is a theory.”

Maka’s face hardened, her courage swelling inside of her slightly. There was no way she was just going to sit dumbly and listen. Theories were fine, but they weren’t going to change anything. She needed to do _something_. Actions needed to be taken.

Her eyes became steel suddenly, her voice strong. “What can I do, then? There must be some way to put everything right. Can’t I just make another wish to fix this all?” The answer came in the form of Marie placing a hand once more on the pigtailed girl’s shoulder, gazing straight into her eyes so cold, hard emerald met warm, soft amber.

“I don’t think it’s wise to start wishing around that thing again.”

“Marie’s right. Who knows what it might do.” Were it possible, his gaze seemed to get even drier. “It could throw you into another dimension.” Marie rolled her eye from her spot next to Maka, giving Stein a look, which he didn’t acknowledge. “Besides,” he continued, avoiding Marie’s raised brow, “I already mentioned that genies are malicious. It won’t exactly be _helpful_.” Stein added as he stood up from his desk chair and towered over the two females. “No, there’s only one thing you can do if you want to return to your timeline, or revert this one back to how it was if that’s the case.”

Maka frowned up at him slightly and kept her voice just as steady as it had been before.

“What’s that?”

“You have to reverse your wish yourself.” Stein replied instantly, as though it were obvious. He rolled his shoulders back and straightened his spine, shoving his hands deep into his lab-coat pockets. The next words which left him were so serious, however, Maka couldn’t help but feel a shiver sliver between her vertebrae and get stuck there, even despite the fire in her gut. “It seems you need to make Soul a Death Scythe again.” 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Elizabeth Thompson could remember the day that the world’s God died in vivid, startling clarity. It sickened her how every single detail was permanently engraved into her memory; how she was unable to remove those moments from her mind. Sometimes, snapshots would just replay in her head over and over and over again like a stuck record. She had been unable to rid herself of the guilt. Of the nightmares. Of the heartbreak.

The Death Room was in chaos.

A beam of pure madness energy had destroyed everything in its path. There had been no escaping it. The world around was spiralling into disarray, falling to ruin around her. Smoke billowed from patches of flames dotted around the ruins, filling the domed space with its ashy plumes.

When her vision cleared and the ringing in her ears died down, she could see that the far wall was crumbling due to a large opening leading out into the night. The gaping hole allowed the screams and cries which echoed throughout Death City to pour into and fill the Death Room in a horrifying cacophony of distant noise. Jagged pieces of rubble jutted out at unnatural angles dangerously and a howling wind was whistling through the large void which lead to the outside world.

Beyond the artificial azure heavens, visible through the newly-created void, the sky was **red**.

Liz released a trembling breath, and the entire space around her shuddered. In her arms, she clutched onto her younger sister’s limp body, cradling her head gently. She had no clue whether Patty was alive or not – the horrifying scarlet gash down her temple didn’t provide much reassurance. Patty’s usually perfect golden hair was clumped with warm, fresh blood, and Liz was having to force herself to hold back the bile rising in her throat at the sight.

Liz’s senses were deaf to everything surrounding her. All she could see was Patricia. The pounding of her heartbeat in her ears drowned out any other sounds which may have reached her. She was simply living in a bubble for that instant.

“Patty?” the elder sister managed to croak out eventually, voice wavering as her eyes began to water. “Patty, wake up. _Please_.”

There was no reply. She was met with nothing but a wall of silence. For a moment, her heart stopped. It felt as though her world was about to fall right out from under her. A world without her sister was like staring into an endless void. Liz wanted, _needed_ her sister to wake up now and smile that great big grin of hers. She needed to see the sparkle in her bright cerulean eyes again.

Then, somehow, she was pulled back to her senses by a heart-wrenching cry. 

“ _ **Father**_!”

That voice… it was familiar. Liz _knew_ that voice.

When she raised her head, she could see Spirit Albarn lying, crumpled and discarded, on the hazardous ground. He had been lucky to have been in his weapon form when the disaster occurred, otherwise he would have been much worse for wear.

Her head turned to face directly in front of her, eyesight aimed for the direction the cry originated from. Death the Kid was on his knees across the room from her. He was hunched over, kneeling before a pile of charred, torn, destroyed black fabric. Though his back was to her, Liz could see from the way his shoulders trembled that the boy was sobbing.

She was in tune with her meister’s soul wavelength. She could feel he was in agony.

“No… please no…” the boy muttered to himself. Liz could hear the way his words came trembling out of his throat. She felt the panic in them and how each syllable was weighed down and suffocated by grief. “I’m not ready. Not yet. I-I can’t…”

Death the Kid was truly weeping – a sight she had never seen before. A sight she never wanted to see again. This wasn’t like when he had panicked over a lack of symmetry or wailed over the fact he never was quite good enough in his eyes to be a reaper. No, this was different: he was crying out of pure sorrow. It took a moment for the girl to register _why_ he was in such a state. But when it did finally hit her, she felt her blood run ice cold.

A broken mask lay discarded by Kid’s side, fractured beyond repair.

The young reaper’s hands clenched on the ebony cloak, a desperate scream tearing out of him.

“Please, father!”

The weapon’s eyes went wide with fear, soaking in every detail of the scene, whilst her body remained rigid. Frozen. Paralysed. Tears continued to stream down unbidden, leaving visible paths on her cheeks.

_This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening._

“Don’t leave me!”

She wanted to reach out and pull her meister, her partner, her friend, her _brother,_  into a comforting embrace. But Patty felt heavy in her arms. She couldn’t move.

“I need you! I’m not ready yet!”

It was too late now. Kid knew it. Liz knew it. Anyone else in the room who might have been conscious would have known it as well.

Lord Death had fallen.

“Don’t go…”

Their God was _dead_.

“… _Please_ …”

To Liz, it felt as though this was it. The end of the world was approaching. Armageddon. The Day of Judgement.

She hung her head in shame, not even attempting to mask the single sob which left her. Moments of her life began flashing before her eyes. She and her sister had once been the known as “The Thompsons: Devils of Brooklyn”. Had they been able to finally atone and repent for the sins of their past? If today was going to be the end of everything they knew… would they have a place in paradise? Liz didn’t really care about herself, but so long as Patty would be able to find peace and happiness…

No! This couldn’t be the end! She had to stop thinking along those lines. It wasn’t possible that this was how they all met their demise. Liz wasn’t going to die here in this room. She wasn’t going to let herself be killed by that _bastard_.

A shrill laugh suddenly echoed around them, loud enough that the vibrations rolled off the rounded walls and rang painfully in her ears. Biting back the fear flooding through her veins, the blonde weapon clutched her sister even tighter and snapped her head up to glare venomously at the hysterical Kishin hovering in the air above them all.

Asura was laughing at their pain and misery. He was laughing at the destruction he had caused. He was _enjoying_ all of it.

“You sick fuck,” Liz growled lowly, despite knowing full well that her words would probably never reach him. After all, he was paying no attention to the pistol sisters. His scarlet gaze of white-hot madness was focused solely on the image of the defeated Lord Death and his sorrowful son. A grin of pure elation twisted onto his face, making Liz’s stomach knot in disgust.

When he finally ceased to laugh and called out to those below him, he sang out joyfully, mockery laced thickly into his tone. “It’s all over now~! Your beloved ruler is gone!”

Kid did not respond, keeping his head lowered and burying his face into what remained of his only parent in an attempt to hide his sobs. The poor boy seemed completely unaware of his surroundings. Instead, he was entirely consumed by what was in front of him, so much so, he even failed to notice how the three white stripes in his hair had begun to glow brightly. Just like they had during the failed attack on Baba Yaga Castle months ago. This time, the single line that did a full loop around his head was joined by two more, making three. Three perfect halos.

Death the Kid was ascending to his place as the next Grim Reaper and he didn’t even realise.

A part of Liz wanted to call out and congratulate him; he would have been delighted to hear that he was finally fully symmetrical. But she knew that now was not the time for celebration in the slightest. The atmosphere remained thick and heavy, Asura’s powerful madness wavelength smothering them all with its severity.

“Awh~! Don’t cry, little reaper.” The toxic words of the Kishin were a jeering insult aimed to strike a nerve directly at Kid. Clearly, they did, for the boy suddenly looked up and glared ferociously at his father’s killer. Even from a distance, Liz could see how his golden irises burned with ire and loathing. In response to the glare however, the demon simply cracked a toothy smile and continued with his ridiculing. “I’m sure daddy would be horrified if he saw how pathetic you are right now! What a disgrace to his name you are.”

Kid bristled silently, causing the tension to thicken. The air around him seemed to shift and darken, as though his very aura was starting to ignite, fuelled on by the manic giggles which roiled around them all. Liz drew in a sharp breath as she watched her meister slowly draw himself to his feet. Posture perfect, back rigid; even with the tears freely bubbling out of his eyes, he maintained a regal air about him. A sense of authority which always left her awestruck.

When Kid looked back at her over his shoulder, she saw how cold his expression had become. Truly, he looked like _Death_. His words were just as hollow and lifeless when he commanded in a dark monotone: “Weapon form, Liz. Now.”

The sorrow of his soul warped and transformed into something else. Rage. He wanted to fight the Kishin. Fear bubbled inside of his weapon partner once again.

“But, Kid…” She stammered and motioned to her unconscious sister. “Patty… the symmetry…”

 _The symmetry was off_. Kid wouldn’t be able to wield her if he couldn’t use Patty as well.

It was almost ironic that in the end, during what would possibly be her last moments, it was Elizabeth Thompson who was worrying about the symmetry of it all, not Death the Kid. But it was the one last piece of order she had left to cling onto in this chaos.

He wasn’t having any of that, though.

“Damnit Liz! I am your meister!” When he snapped at her so viciously, she couldn’t help but flinch and recoil instinctively. He’d never spoken to her like that before. But the rational side of her realised it made sense; he was lashing out at everything now. How couldn’t he when his family had just been ripped away from him so brutally. “I order you to transform!”

The blonde hesitated, swallowing back her nerves. The two of them alone couldn’t possibly take on the Kishin. Not when Asura had proved to them how powerful he was by defeating Death. But, then again… Kid’s lines had _all_ connected. Maybe, just maybe, they had a shot.

It was a risk they had to take.

She breathed out heavily, before gently releasing Patty and laying her down with care. The gentle rise and fall of Patty’s chest, the light breathing, finally was able to give Liz some reassurance that her beloved sister was _alive_. Ignoring how the madman continued to smirk at them, she bent down and placed a chaste kiss against her sister’s forehead, before standing up and allowing the fuchsia light to engulf her.

When Kid held her in her weapon form, it was familiar. His grip was strong, firm, yet there was a care to it as well. He never squeezed too tight, never made her feel any less human even when she was in weapon form. Kid always treated her like a lady, despite the fact he was wielding her. She fit perfectly into his palm, giving her a sense of security in this frightening moment. It provided a fleeting comfort. They both knew how to fight with each other. This was just another mission, just another Kishin. His soul would be theirs in no time.

“Kishin Asura! In the name of the Grim Reaper, I sentence you to death!”

His shout made her instincts kick into gear. Liz knew exactly what to do and a moment later she was reaching out and taking hold of his soul wavelength, ready for resonance. She could feel his own soul wrapping around her in a similar fashion as the two focused on matching their wavelengths. Energy coursed through the circuit they created, charging them both up so they would be ready to make their move. Liz was ready to send his soul wavelength through her, straight at the enemy.

She didn’t have a chance to transform into her cannon form for, all of a sudden, Kid’s soul began to pulse with a tremendous burst of power and grow larger. Larger than Liz could manage. The wavelength she once had a hold on was suddenly smothering her, drowning her. The electricity between them became white-hot, and pain flooded her senses. And his soul _continued_ growing with a power she had never seen before in her life, pressing down on her so much that she couldn’t breathe.

A scream of agony echoed around the girl, and it took a moment for Liz to realise that it came from _her_.

“ _ **Liz**_?!”

Kid had dropped her the moment she began to cry out. His voice was heavily laced with panic, eyes now wide and concerned rather than furious like they had been before. She fell to the ruined ground with a clatter, and instantly reverted back to her human self. The blonde gasped for air, taking in greedy lungfuls the moment she felt oxygen flood into her once more.

“Your soul was crushing me, Kid!” she explained between laboured breaths whilst Kid continued to stare at her with horror. The blood was rushing away from his face, making his cheeks even paler than usual. “We can’t resonate. You have too much power for me to handle. I’m sorry.”

It was only when the loud holler of hysterical cackles met their ears once more than she remembered Asura was still watching them. Both teens shuddered at the sound, before turning to face the Kishin again. He was standing right in front of them now, his deep red gaze wild with power and pure delight at the hilarity of what he had just seen. It was painfully obvious from his expression how much he was enjoying this all, and how much he was mentally taunting their pathetically short-lived attempt to fight back.

“Were you really trying to wield a weapon which isn’t a Death Scythe, little Grim Reaper?” Asura hummed with glee, taking a step forward towards Kid. The adolescent boy was unable to stop his body trembling as the demon drew closer, and out of pure instinct he took a few steps back in a vain attempt to get some space between them. Yet the elder just continued advancing, backing Kid up towards the far wall like a predator closing in on his prey. “How funny!”

Kid’s eyes were wide with horror as his gaze drifted over to his father’s fractured mirror. For the first time, he reached a full understanding of the situation at the sight of his reflection. The lines of Sanzu had fully connected. He was no longer “Death the Kid”. _He was the Grim Reaper_.

Time seemed to freeze. Kid looked like he was about to pass out as the Kishin drew closer and closer. Liz was paralysed by fear, unable to even breathe. The air was caught in her throat as she stared in terror. She just _knew_ what was about to happen. But she couldn’t move. The nerves in her body were not responding to how much she was mentally screaming at herself to _stand up and help him_!

Asura was far quicker than her sense of vision. In the blink of an eye, one of his scarves shot forward and grabbed Kid by the throat, lifting him upwards into the air so his feet dangled helplessly above the floor. His choked gasps were frantic, whilst he tried clawing the flesh away from his neck desperately. Asura’s grin only warped and grew wider. The expression was a horrific sight; pure insanity was smouldering behind his irises and he seemed so much more monstrous in that moment.

Kid’s face contorted into a grimace: a horrible mixture of dread and pain. In a matter of milliseconds, a mere heartbeat later, the Kishin was leaning his face in closer to the boy’s. When his lips parted, the smooth voice dropped into a low whisper. Yet the words had an edge which was threatening enough to be carried by the air they all breathed so they hung in Elizabeth’s ears as clear as crystal cut glass.

“Surely you must know; the Grim Reaper can only use the weapons which are fit for Gods. Unfortunately for you, your little pistol doesn’t seem up to that calibre.”

Liz felt her entire body tremble at that. She knew what the Kishin was implying: she had failed to protect her own meister. Kid was now unable to wield a weapon which was not a Death Scythe. It was her fault. If she had been able to resonate with his soul, if she had been strong enough to hold onto it, this wouldn’t be happening…

“Stay away from my meister, you son of a bitch!”

That piercing shriek escaped her before she had a chance to bite back the words, the echoes they created swelling to fill the space around them all. Kid’s golden stare darted back to her, and she could just see the mixture of emotions behind those eyes of his. But the most prominent was how pleadingly he gazed at her. He was silently begging her to stay quiet. And what was worse was that she could tell exactly what he wanted her to do. He didn’t even need to voice that thought, yet he did so forcefully: “Liz, listen to me! Take Patty and get out of here! Now!”

He wanted her to escape while she could.  

No no _no_! She wasn’t going to leave him now! She wouldn’t, _couldn’t_. Death Scythe or not, he was her meister and so help her Death, Elizabeth Thompson was not going to abandon him just yet!

A shot of soul wavelength suddenly hit Asura square in the back, causing him to jerk forward slightly from the blow. Then, a hesitation. A pause. Death the Kid’s breath hitched as he watched the Kishin’s grin drop into a frown, as though he was trying to register what had happened. By the time he had it figured out, he cast a lazy glance over his shoulder to take in the sight of a young blonde girl with tear-stained cheeks, aiming a gun where her left hand had once been straight at him. Blood was running down Patricia’s face, and she was barely able to keep herself upright. Her arms were shaking terribly. It was a miracle she had been able to even hit her target.

“Let Kid go.”

Elizabeth stared at her sister in shock, mouth hanging open dumbly. Patty’s voice was so cold and bitter it reminded Liz of the little sister she raised on the streets: the Patty of the past she thought they had both left behind. Yet even despite the ferocity which burned in her cerulean irises, the young girl was trembling so much it looked as though she was about to collapse again at any given moment.

Quirking his eyebrow at the words spoken in such a threatening tone, a heavy sigh ghosted through his lips. No move was made to follow Patty’s order. If anything, the grip around Kid’s neck only tightened. Asura seemed completely unfazed by pistol being aimed at him.

“I applaud you for your attempt, little girl,” he began, sarcasm weighing down his words. “However, I think you’ll find that _you_ won’t be able to do me much damage.”

With that said, the Kishin turned his back on the Thompson sisters once more. They weren't even worth sparing a lasting glance. Liz’s mind was a jumbled mess of manic ideas and deliberations, however one clear thought was able to come to the surface. _Kid needed a Death Scythe_!

Her frantic eyes finally trailed back to the unconscious Spirit Albarn. He had yet to stir. So Liz called out to him desperately. Yet her voice seemed to fall silent, as though she was simply screaming into an empty void. The wind failed to carry her shouts. It was right there and then that Elizabeth knew, she just could _tell_ , it was already too late.

Asura was speaking again, though she was so overwhelmed it sounded like they were all underwater. She couldn’t tell if the Kishin was talking to her or Kid. Maybe he was just muttering to himself. It probably didn’t even matter anyway. That mad bastard was most likely only spurting gibberish.

Then again, gibberish never made Kid look so frightened, like he did right there and then.

“Poor little reaper. You must want to be reunited with your daddy, right?” Asura mocked. “I could kill you right now. Get rid of _all_ the Grim Reapers while I have the chance.”

A pause. A held breath. The silence had thickened so immensely, Liz could practically hear Kid’s heartbeat thrumming like the wings of a hummingbird. Time stilled when the Kishin’s disgusting smirk grew wider, as though it was splitting his face in two.

“But then again… where would the fun be in that?”

Suddenly Asura lurched forward, sending both himself and the reaper falling through the opening leading out of the Death Room, tumbling back into the red sky. Patty cried out whilst Liz scrabbled up instantly, almost tripping over her own feet as she futilely tried to reach the Gods before they were gone forever. Grasping forward, she strained to grab onto Asura’s fluttering scarf to halt them both.

But the flesh slipped right through her fingers as a cackle echoed around them. The last thing she saw was a pair of wide, brilliant gold eyes, locked right on her, full of terror. Then, both Kid and Asura slipped into the night, engulfed by the darkness. Gone.

It was such a cruel vanishing act.

Elizabeth Thompson stood alone, staring out through the gaping hole with lifeless eyes. The darkness around her held its breath, the silence smothering her. Just like that, Kid had been snatched away from them all. Reality began to press down upon her, the full severity of the situation finally becoming apparent.

Lord Death had been murdered, and Kid was _gone_. The DWMA was falling to ruin around her, and they had no God left to turn to.

This really was the end.

Liz screamed.

* * *

She awoke from the same nightmare every day. That one moment of her past, a single scene in the story which was her life, was impossible to be rid of. Every morning for the past two years, Liz had woken up with tears in her eyes as she tried to push back the nightmare to the very back of her mind. But like a scar, she could never be rid of it.

Like most mornings, there were tears bubbling out of her eyes when she breathed in the first scent of daybreak. The same things always met her: the artificial lighting of the tunnels, the smell of coffee wafting down the halls from the communal kitchen, distant murmurs of plots and plans discussed by the higher-ups, and finally, the touch of a strong arm wrapped around her shivering body, pulling her into a tight embrace. Warmth radiated from her companion, his body cocooning hers protectively.

Every morning, Kilik Rung awoke to the sound of Elizabeth Thompson sobbing. Every morning, he’d pull her trembling form closer to him and whisper the same soothing comforts to her:

“Shhh, Liz. It’s _okay_. I’m right here. It was just a bad dream. No, Liz, it’s not your fault. He’s fine. Princess, _please_. You need to calm down. Kid’ll be okay. I’m sure about it.”

Kilik _wasn’t_ sure. But he had to convince himself every day that he was. He had to hold on to the hope that Liz’s meister was alright, that the DWMA had a chance. It was the only thing he could do to calm her down.

That particular morning began just like the rest. The pair lay amongst the sheets together for a good half an hour after they woke up. By the time Liz’s muffled weeping had died down, they just remained there. Together. Listening to each other’s breathing.

Eventually Kilik had managed to entice Liz out of their bedroom and towards the shared kitchen, knowing full well that she always perked up after breakfast. So, like every morning, he fried eggs and bacon, laying them out on the plate to form a breakfast-y smiley face. It was predictable, but was always successful in bringing the spark back to her azure eyes. He loved the sight of dimples forming in her cheeks when she laughed quietly at the sight of the crooked bacon grin and large sunny-side-up eyes.

It was odd how, in the madness and chaos of fighting against the world and hiding underground, the tunnels had brought people closer together in the most unexpected ways. The cramped living space had literally shoved everyone into each other; that was something neither Kilik nor Liz ended up minding now. The two had been an unexpected pair, but it just seemed to fit. Besides, the Pots seemed to adore the elder of the Thompson sisters. That was always a good sign for their meister.

Speaking of the twins, both Fire and Thunder eventually toddled into the communal kitchen not long after Kilik had poured himself a cup of coffee and sat himself down beside his girlfriend. The children were quickly scooped up by their father-figure, and sat bouncing on his knee whilst he and the young woman made idle chit-chat with each other. For the briefest moment, they looked like a happy family. It was quaint and sweet; a pleasant change from the usual bitter taste each day brought. 

It came to an abrupt end sadly when Nygus soon entered. Her eyes were soft, indicating a smile behind her bandaged face. She greeted the group politely, before turning to them.

“I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it many times again. Your sister is a fantastic meister, Liz. Her talents really were wasted serving as Kid’s weapon,” she stated warmly.

Liz’s eyes became sullen, smile dropping the moment Mira spoke. Oh, how she knew that it wasn’t supposed to have been something to upset her. It was meant to be a compliment! Liz was always so proud of Patty; the younger girl had thrown everything into training herself to become a strong meister ever since Kid’s disappearance. Patty was certainly more than ready to wield a weapon now, even if she still occasionally struggled with resonance techniques. The girl was up every morning at the crack of dawn, working her arse off with Nygus so she could take a stand and bring their meister back home.

The problem was, it still left a sore spot. It still reminded Liz of the fact her real meister was gone. Both Kilik and her sister were only meant to be temporary partners. Yet the more time passed, the more it seemed as though it would become a permanent fixture. Which really, there wasn’t a major problem with. Then again…

Patty may have been exceptional, but she just… _wasn’t Kid_.

There was a hole in Liz’s heart, one which was hard to fill. Most things ended up becoming a painful reminder of that fact.

By the time Nygus had poured herself a cup of coffee and headed out of the kitchen (probably back to the training room to continue grilling some other poor meisters first thing in the morning), Liz had clearly lost her appetite, and was left sitting, staring at a half-eaten breakfast smiley face which suddenly looked so much more blue than before.

“It’s two years today, you know,” the blonde girl mumbled, causing Kilik to look up from the twins on his knees and face his girlfriend, expression heavily influenced by concern.

“Liz…”

“Two years today that I failed my meister. Two years today that Kid… Kid…”

She trailed off, words drowning in the tears which were springing up again and threatening to spill over. A pitiful hiccup was released, hands covering her face to try and hide how her formerly strong mask, worn by the Liz from the streets of Brooklyn, had cracked and fallen long ago. It was all in vain, however, as Kilik reached across to gently grasp hold of her wrists. After managing to pull her hands away from her face, he looked her straight in the eye confidently.

“Liz, you have to stop blaming yourself for what happened. What happened to Kid wasn’t your fault.” When he spoke, he left no room for negotiation. His words were firm, strong, yet soft at the same time. They had a light gentleness to them which were trying to entice Liz out of the shell she was retreating into every time she allowed guilt to consume her. Which was far too often for his liking. So he continued down that path, attempting to bring his favourite smile back onto her beautiful face. “Maka’s returned to us, right? That just proves miracles can actually happen!”

It was awfully cheesy, but even Liz couldn’t deny during her musings that Kilik had a point. Maka Albarn, their friend who had lost her life two years ago, was somehow back and very much alive. It was a miracle. So, if Maka could return, what was stopping Kid?

“We’ll get Kid back,” Liz eventually muttered in response, a weak smile returning just a bit. Though she wasn’t completely sure, she knew that she had to keep her head up (even though it was virtually impossible at times).

Kilik gave her a goofy grin, squeezing her hand reassuringly.

The last remaining traces of the DWMA were going to return order to this world. They were going to bring Death the Kid back home.

* * *

Footsteps echoed through the long hallways, travelling further into the heart of Baba Yaga Castle. The steady _click click click_ bounced off the cold stone walls, accompanied by the cheerful humming of an upbeat little tune. This routinely visit happened to be one of Asura’s favourite pass-times, so there was a light spring in his step as he descended deeper into the castle’s core. Eventually, the Kishin came to a large set of elaborate double doors, intricate web patterns engraved into the dark mahogany and golden Kishin eyes designed as the furniture. A wild grin flashed across his gaunt face as his scarves shot forward to grab at the handles before throwing the doors open with a tremendous crash.

Taking one step past the threshold, Asura entered a room completely submerged in darkness. It was entirely empty, save for a large ebony throne situated at the farthest wall. There was no light; it was only his enhanced nocturnal vision that allowed his eyes to see through the blackness and vividly make out the throne and the small figure seated upon it. Even from a distance, Asura could see that the figure had stiffened upon his entry.

“I’m back~! Did you miss me?” the Kishin sang out, his merriment laced with an edge of sadistic poison. As he walked down the narrow room towards the throne, his scarlet eyes burned through the gloom to soak in the details of the sight which lay before him. Yes, he had seen it many times before, but it still brought him the same satisfaction as though it was his first time witnessing the sight. It was a permanent reminder of his victory. _This_ was his trophy, and his most valuable possession.

There sat a prince of death, still so young and fragile. He was a beautiful creature, with hair of jet black marred by the three halos of pure white; the soft skin was like ivory, his eyes liquid gold. The way he sat there, so poised with perfect posture, he seemed to glow with an ethereal majesty which would make many mortal wish to bow before him and vow to follow him as their ruler.

_(It was for the exact reason why the boy remained locked away from the eyes of the world, deep within the sturdy heart of Arachne’s fortress.)_

Yet despite his beauty and apparent grandeur, the boy remained an image of powerlessness: for there he sat, defeated. A crown of barbed wire rested on his head; a clearly mockery of what he once was and _should_ have become. Instead of arising to King or God, he was bound and held down by chains. They locked him down firmly, filling the quiet air with the occasional soft _clink_ of metal when the prisoner even tried to simply flex his wrists.

To make the entire experience all the more unpleasant, the figure had literally been pinned down to the throne he was seated on like a butterfly on display, only more gruesome. From the high ceiling, many long chains hung like an interlocking web above his head, clinking quietly at the slightest movement. Attached to each chain was a different sword, linked by their hilts. There was something morbidly beautiful about the intricacy of it all. Also something rather… _artistic_ about the way each sword had been slotted carefully through spaces in the grand back of the throne, so that those blades could be stabbed right through the body of the reaper himself. His torso was littered with dozens of tips just jutting out through the flesh, leaving wounds unable to heal themselves and keeping him secure in his prison. From behind, the many sword hilts seemed like menacing wings tearing out from his back, like he really was an Angel of Death.

His once crisp white shirt was now stiff and stained to a permanent shade of sickly, blotchy rusted brown. Of course, those healing abilities of his now that he had reached the stage of becoming the Grim Reaper ensured that no amount of blood-loss would kill him. No, that simply dragged out the lingering ache. There was no rest for him.

It was pitiful, really, how one so “strong” and “powerful” could be reduced so easily to nothing at all. Asura tended to gloat over that fact frequently. So much so that Death the Kid had almost become immune to his taunts by this stage. This point was clarified when the adolescent in question glanced lazily at his approaching captor, not even attempting a glare when the Kishin sauntered over to him and leaned beside the seat.

“Today’s a special day, you know,” Asura began with that awful sickly-sweet tone of his, whilst “amicably” ruffling the boy’s raven-black hair with one of his scarves. Kid did his best not to react, though there was the slightest instinctive flinch in response to the close proximity of the other being. “Our two year anniversary! Only seven-hundred-and-ninety-eight years to go until we’re both even.”

“Oh _joy_.”

“It could always be worse. Or would you prefer it if I skinned you alive?”

Death the Kid snorted in response, eyes cold and narrowed. He looked at Asura with complete and utter disgust, not even attempting to hide the loathing he felt towards the Kishin.

“What exactly do you want, Asura?” Each word was clipped and as sharp as the blades currently impaled into his back. And by Death, Kid would _know_ how sharp those were.

A sigh was released as Asura shook his head, expression placid. “Can’t I just spend some time with my little brother? Besides, we’ve been separated for over eight hundred years. Count this as a family reunion,” he hummed contemplatively. “I thought that in your current position, you’d want some company. And what better company than your last remaining flesh and blood?”

There was a twitch in Kid’s eyes, a vein pulsing in his temple. The boy turned his head away from the other man, ignoring the sombre melody created by the chains rattling and brushing against each other. Ever since his arrival at Baba Yaga castle, the Kishin had tried to convince Kid that a ridiculous story of him and Asura being _related_ was truth. According to the obviously insane one, both Asura and Kid were “fragments” of the former Lord Death, both created from the same soul. Thus, they were related.

Of course, Kid knew this was all meaningless drivel. There was no way it was possible for an embodiment and quintessence of order and balance such as Kid to be linked in any way, shape, or form to the being of madness and chaos. It just could not be possible. That was what Kid stubbornly continued to think. So, it came as no surprise when the boy growled under his breath, “I still refuse to believe you and that nonsense.”

Asura did not respond to the retort, aside from allowing a glimmer of a leer to flash across his three red eyes. With no words spoken, he simply ran a hand over the chains which hung in the air, causing them to tinkle like chimes. Kid winced and stiffened instantly when the chains tightened and the blades tugged at his body, ever-so-slightly re-opening the wounds which had been trying to seal around each sword. He tried to bite back a gasp, screwing his eyes tightly shut to prevent any unbidden tears of pain from slipping free. The Kishin only hummed along with the saturnine tune played out by the metal, seemingly ignoring the signs of discomfort the smaller boy was showing.

“It almost doesn’t seem fair; the child having to pay for the sins of the father,” Asura mused quietly, as though talking to himself. All the while he continued running his hands over the chains, as though he was playing a harp. Occasionally, a hand would stop and give one chain a sharp tug, hoping to elicit more of a reaction from his captive. “You must hate him for the fact you’re being put through this instead of him. It would not surprise me if you’d want someone else to replace you here.”

A hiss of pain was released through clenched teeth, followed by a bitter laugh. When Kid replied, his voice came out dry and rough. “Having to listen to you spouting your ridiculous nonsense on a regular basis? I hardly mind saving anyone else from that torture. That’s my duty as Grim Reaper; protecting others from you.”

Unfortunately for Kid’s already well damaged pride, that response elicited a hysterical bout of laughter from the Demon God.

“I think you’ll find you’re rather failing at that duty, being locked up in here and all that.” There was no room for pity or empathy when the man spoke. The words, though sounding light and airy, had venom laced into them. However, the next words stabbed deep into the Grim Reaper’s soul, sending a shockwave of humiliation coursing through his nerves and blood. “You’re useless, a disgrace. Your father would be so _ashamed_ if he saw you now.”

He had put up with Asura and his jeering for two years now. By Death, he’d even heard that exact same sentence over and over again. But it was the meaning behind the words which were a much more bitter and less palatable insult; a deliberate slap across the face which always struck a particular chord. What was worse was that it was entirely _true_. He had barely lasted five seconds as the Grim Reaper before being captured by Asura and Arachnophobia. Everything he had planned to accomplish; how he had always thought he would do his father proud and follow as his successor in a fair and just manner, how he had hoped to earn the respect of being a successful new Lord Death for the humans to follow; it had all gone up in flames quicker than he had been able to process.

Kid seemed to jolt from the crushing force of those words, left entirely mute. No words seemed to register in his mind that he could fire back in a sharp retort.

“No snitty little come-back this time, Reaper?”

Turning his head slowly, the boy sent a foul glare at the leering face next to him, before he spat right in one of those damned scarlet eyes of insanity.

The dark room shuddered with the force of the silence which followed after that. A pin could have dropped and Kid would have heard it, it was so deathly quiet.

Irascibility spiked in the Kishin. The grin which he once wore was replaced by pure _rage_ , his eyes gleaming with a manic and avid fury at what had just occurred. Not a second later, a hand was reaching behind the throne to grab hold of the hilt of one of the many swords, the one which had been placed right through the adolescent’s abdomen.

When Asura twisted the weapon, it felt as though Kid’s insides were getting torn to shreds. Coppery blood rose and flooded his mouth, suffocating the scream which had begun pouring out of the boy. A horrifyingly sickening _squelch_ of the almost healed flesh being ripped open once again drowned out every other sound like white noise. Kid could feel the warm patch growing on his shirt, stained by the growing blossom of his own Type-D blood. He wanted to vomit, but he knew heaving would make the pain _so much worse_. Death, it burned. Acid seemed to be dripping from the blade, leaving excruciating agony in his gut.

Kid had heard that a stab to the gut was one of the slowest and most painful deaths a human being could suffer. Apparently, damage to the intestines could poison the body system, leading to potentially fatal bacterial infections. All the while, the victim would continue to slowly bleed out as the bacteria would leak into their peritoneal cavity, causing an indescribable pain. His fast-acting immune system would certainly prevent any serious infection and stop the blood which was spilled from slowly killing him, but it still hurt just as badly as he had imagined.

Sitting alone in the dark, he had gotten far too used to the dull throbbing which left his body numb. Yet as Asura continued toying with him, twisting and tugging at the blade, fresh waves of agony continued to crash over Kid. _Oh Death_ , it almost felt as though his insides were about to spill out of his body. Yet he was still unable to cry out, gagging on the blood flooding his mouth. He wanted to cry, to scream, not caring about the humiliation it may have entailed.

_Just make it stop!_

Finally, thankfully, the pressure lifted as Asura’s hold was removed. Blood dribbled down Kid’s chin and he heaved forward, spitting out what was collected in his mouth, the chains above him tightening and preventing his body from falling too far forward. The tugs at his body felt like nothing more than a slight nuisance in comparison to what had just occurred. Kid could feel the Kishin’s eyes rooted on him, visualising the disgustingly sadistic grin the bastard was sporting. It made him feel sick to his very stomach.

“I actually _did_ come here with news for you, by the way,” Asura hummed with serenity when Kid’s heaves finally died down. He was smiling childishly, allowing the faintest giggle to ghost past his lips. “Arachne is releasing the news of your pending execution soon.”

That phrase caused Kid to lift his head wearily, eyes blurry with confusion. What Asura had just said made no sense. For one, the Kishin was constantly reminding the Grim Reaper how he intended to keep him locked up for the next eight-hundred years, as “payback” for being held in a bag of his own skin beneath the DWMA. Keeping Kid around for only two years and then killing him off certainly seemed to defeat the point of that. 

“Execution?” he echoed, the word coming out hoarse as though his voice had just been drowned by the blood in his throat. The Reaper could see the glimmer across those three crimson eyes: a certain level of gloating which only the Kishin could achieve. Said being nodded enthusiastically, lips warped into a revolting smile.

“It turns out that there are still some pests left from the DWMA, scampering around and trying to undermine Arachnophobia’s forces. So, we’re luring the rats out with some bait.”

When Asura motioned towards the bound Reaper casually, as though pointing out something obvious, Kid felt his eyes widen as realisation set in. Arachnophobia had no intention of killing off their prize prisoner any time soon. They were simply setting a trap for their enemies.

“No…”

“See, Reaper?” Asura was teasing Kid now, giggling airily at the look of panic which had set itself upon the smaller fragment’s features. “You may have some use after all~”

Kid could ignore the throbbing in his gut long enough to allow his anger to take hold. When it did, his body seemed to snap into an upright position, as he shot the most toxic glare he could muster back at his enemy. The shout which escaped him came unbidden, fuelled on by the burning ire that smouldered in the very core of his soul. Yet it swelled to fill the entire room, ringing off the walls with deafening force.

“You scum! Just you try laying a hand on them!”

The Kishin shrugged, seemingly unfazed by the furious reaction he had received. There might have been a momentary flinch of fear in his eyes at the outburst, yet it went unnoticed by the younger God. “I’m personally not going to be the one going anywhere near them. Fighting what is left of the DWMA is beneath me.”

“You’re nothing more than a coward, Asura,” Kid snarled, the hairs down his neck bristling as though in that moment, he was a feral animal. “Call off the plan – convince Arachne not to go through with it. You already have what you want; there’s no need to harm anyone else!” Yet his fury seemed not to get any reaction at all from the other immortal being. Before he could stop himself, Kid found himself babbling in panic, almost _begging_. “Please, Asura! Don’t hurt them! I’ll make you regret it if you do, I promise you!”

Asura grinned down at the boy, apparently finding some sort of amusement in the threat. The corners of his eyes crinkled with glee, head tilting to one side almost innocently when he all but sang: “Hm~? And what exactly can you do about it?”

Kid froze, knowing full well that the damn Kishin was right. What _could_ he do, especially in his current state? The blood drained from his face, matching the rhythm of the steady _drip drip drip_ leaking from his fresh wound. Content that he had caused enough damage for the day, Asura pulled himself away from the throne and began to descend back into the darkness, leaving the child alone once more.

“Have a nice day, _Kiddo_ ~”

The door slammed shut, plunging Kid into complete darkness once more. The full severity of the future weighed down on him, and all Kid could think was that, knowing his friends and their damned loyalty, they were all about to waltz themselves straight into Arachne’s web. And there was nothing he could do to stop it. The boy hung his head in shame, allowing a single sob to echo in the blackness around him.

“Everyone… please stay safe…”


	4. Chapter 4

This world was sick.

It had been poisoned, and was falling to ruin. Madness was everywhere. People had become ruthless, murderous, and selfish under the influence of the madness wavelength. Humans becoming Afreets were common nowadays. Anyone who somehow managed to avoid being tainted by the influence of the wavelength were more likely to become the victim of a hungry Afreet than surviving long enough to make it to sanctuary.

Everything was so _wrong_. And it was all the fault of the Snake.

Eruka Frog despised Medusa Gorgon. She had ruined _everything_. If it hadn't been for her, Eruka would never have been dragged kicking and screaming into this mess. It was because of Medusa that the Kishin was revived and his madness brought the resurrection of Lady Arachne Gorgon. The spider witch caused the destruction everything. But it all stemmed from that one snake. _That damned snake_. Eruka hated her, with every single ounce of her being. Every time she felt one of the last few remaining snakes squirm and writhe inside of her, she would be reminded of that disgusting woman.

But Medusa was long dead now. Eruka could only lament over the fact she never had an opportunity to personally throttle her. Mabaa, she would've killed to wring that bitch’s neck with her own hands. She was almost envious at the fact that Arachne had been the one to murder her sister.

Almost.

There was only one other Eruka loathed as much as Medusa Gorgon: Arachne herself. That witch was the only woman left who could cause shivers to run over her flesh just from a mere glance; like spiders were crawling across Eruka’s skin.

Eruka had that same sensation right at that moment as she stood amongst the crowd, Free right beside her and clutching tightly onto her hand as though he feared she might slip between his fingers. High above the horde, overlooking them all from her podium, stood the Queen herself, sinfully beautiful as ever. Those dark eyes pierced through the red sky, whilst her well-defined lips were pulled upwards into the smallest hint of a smile. A victorious smirk.

The wind carried her voice effortlessly as she spoke of the end of the era of the Grim Reaper. The fall of the DWMA. The rise of Asura and the madness. All the usual things her speeches were full of. Her voice was silk, yet each word was venom to the ear. She spoke of all Arachnophobia’s victories, and laughed at their enemies’ defeat. Eruka hated hearing it. She knew Free felt the same from the way his hair bristled and he swallowed back a feral growl whenever they were shepherded into the main courtyard and forced to listen to their spider Empress.

This was a regular occurrence at Baba Yaga Castle, and today felt no different. Arachnophobia’s forces would stand, listen, and cheer wildly as their Queen spoke the same things she always did. None of her followers seemed any less excitable during these regular speeches, which Eruka still couldn't understand herself. She had become sick of hearing the gloating after the first time round. But, she put it down to the madness affecting everyone. She and Free were considered relatively lucky. It felt as though they were the only sane beings in a sea of chaos.

After the fall of Medusa and realising how serious the situation was about to become, the frog witch and her immortal partner-in-crime aligned themselves with the DWMA (more out of need than desire), staying inside Arachnophobia to act as spies. Once Lord Death fell, they both found themselves in far too deep to escape. The DWMA provided some sanctuary for them – during the witch hunts, Eruka was able to hide in their tunnels and return back to her posting once the chaos had died down. Both her and Free’s minds had stayed relatively intact since joining their former enemies; something she put down to the healing wavelengths of some of the meisters and weapons they interacted with.

It was a risky game they were playing, however, and most of the time Eruka was paranoid that her Soul Protection was not enough to conceal her and her partner.

When they stood amongst the ocean of people, they were able to hide, to an extent. By blending in and getting lost in the crowd, the duo felt a veil of safety briefly fall over them. It provided some comfort in that moment, though it was a rare and fleeting one. The two were far too used to constantly looking over their shoulders, paranoid about each shadow they went by. But here, in a crowd, they could hide in plain sight. Besides, Eruka personally felt a hell of a lot safer with her companion holding her hand, even when he clutched on too tightly.

“Something seems off,” Free mumbled to the small woman beside him, pulling her out of her thoughts when his grip tightened even more around her much smaller hand. She glanced up at him, raising one eyebrow. The wolfman was staring straight ahead, eyes rooted on the spider witch as she continued talking over the roar of mad delight from those below her. “Eruka, stay close to me. I have a bad feeling...”

All of his senses seemed rigid and alert, ears pricked in anticipation and eyes narrowed. The frog witch swallowed thickly and returned her gaze to the podium before them, squeezing Free’s hand in return. Now that he mentioned it, she could feel it too. Something felt heavy in the air; strange, like a sense of foreboding. Just like the time Arachne had announced the witch hunts. Like back then, the smile on her face seemed even more cruel than usual, and the glint in her eyes was impossible to miss even from their distance.

“Calm yourselves for a moment, my subjects.” Arachne never once raised her voice, yet she held so much regal authority she was able to hush an entire congregation with one sentence. Eruka felt her spine stiffen, each vertebra locking into place, whilst Free chewed on his bottom lip in nervous eagerness. The courtyard fell into silence in anticipation. Arachne’s expression remained unchanged, as cold and elegant as ever. Yet the gloat in her tone was hard to miss. “I have important news for you all.”

Yet the spider witch stopped, soaking in the people below her with those deep, intense eyes of hers. Eruka held her breath along with the entire crowd. Silence lingered for a moment; Arachne was teasing them, dangling whatever information she had for them all right above their heads, slightly out of their reach. It seemed to draw on and on and on; painfully so.

When the words were finally spoken, Free and Eruka both felt physically shaken, right to their core.

“At the next full moon, the last Grim Reaper shall be executed!”

The quiet remained for a fleeting moment, as though each and every soul was linked in trying to process what had been said. The words seeped into their minds slowly, gradually. Nobody could quite believe what they had just heard.

Then, a tremendous cheer erupted like a volcano. Manic shouts and roars swelled to fill the skies above, creating a cacophony of white-noise. They were all wild, mad with joy. Eruka felt sick to her stomach. They were _cheering_ for the death of Death.

Then, the chants began.

“Kill the Reaper! Kill the Reaper!”

The chorus was a tidal wave of noise which must have filled the entire space surrounding the castle. There was no doubt that the Grim Reaper in question, wherever he was locked away inside Baba Yaga, heard it himself. And the mob continued their battle cries, fists held up in the air, feet stamping out a thundering rhythm. Their erratic devotion to Arachne and the Kishin was like they were followers of a cult, inspired by the rantings of madmen. It was a horribly accurate description of what was going on around the frog witch.

Eruka’s knees trembled as she stared straight ahead. The colour was draining from her face rapidly, making her pale complexion even more insipid. She was ready to vomit. They were going to kill Death the Kid? It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t have been _possible_.

A voice in the back of her head reminded her that Lord Death had been killed two years ago, however. Mabaa herself not long after.

 _Even Gods could die_.

“Eruka!” Free’s voice only just reached her ears over the din of the masses. He was giving her a slight nudge in an attempt to get her attention. When she did look to him again, those wide eyes full of fear, he simply motioned to the people surrounding them before throwing his own fist in the air and joining in with their chants, even though reluctance glimmered across his eye. His hint was enough for Eruka to work out that he was right; they had to stay hidden. Inconspicuous. They had to blend in no matter what.

With regret and a trembling voice, Eruka forced herself to join in with the cursed mantra. Their cries continued to ring out, drowning out any other sounds which may have been heard in the moment.

“Kill the Reaper! Kill the Reaper! Kill the Reaper!”

She wanted to cry in mourning for a world she once knew. For a world more peaceful than this hellhole they were all trapped in. The psychopathic words of those who surrounded her only enforced Eruka’s sorrow. But she had to bite back her tears; she had to harden her eyes and clamp down on her trembling lip. She had to keep moving forward, despite how much she wanted to retreat into a shell and hide away from the terrifying reality around her.

“Kill the Reaper!”

This world was sick.

* * *

Arachne’s web went further than the human eye could see. It filled every nook and cranny, every corner and shadow. Every part of Baba Yaga Castle was joined by her threads, linked directly to her web. Thus, every piece of information became a part of Arachne Gorgon herself. She lived and _breathed_ this kingdom she had woven. Nothing went unseen. Even secrets, which others thought could be kept, were heard by her ears. She found it… _amusing_ , how some people thought they were hidden. How they thought they went unnoticed.

How wrong they were.

Taking a sip of vermilion elixir from a glass of the finest crystal, Arachne’s wickedly red lips flickered briefly into a smile the moment she felt a single silk strand behind her tremble. She sat completely still for a moment, simply allowing the divine flavours to dance across and settle on her taste buds, before gently clearing her throat and speaking out into the candle-lit gloom.

“It seems as though the toad and her pet puppy took the bait.”

Directly below her web, Asura seemed to stir from his “meditation” on his futon-like seat. (Though the way the air around him rippled and fluctuated with insanity, it hardly seemed like true meditating). His head tilted slightly, then the scarves wrapped around his face cracked open and released, making his three eyes visible to the room once more. When his smile cracked, it revealed his many threatening teeth. The Kishin did not respond directly to the witch, but the warped expression of delight spoke a thousand words instead.

“I still don’t get why we didn’t just kill’em months ago,” shouted out another voice rather abruptly. Giriko stood across the room from his mistress, slouching against one of the pillars which held up the grand ceiling of her chamber. The chainsaw cracked his knuckles and barred his jagged teeth, which only just caught the dim light. Yet even in the flickering gloom, his smile was monstrous. “I would have happily dealt with them myself.”

An amused hum filled the space around the Queen at the sounds of those words, her dark eyes half-lidded in light mirth.

“Well, they did an impressive job of evading me for such a long time. They deserved to be humoured for a little while,” she replied calmly to her loyal henchman, her perfect nails lightly tapping out a soft beat against the crystal of her almost-empty wine glass. The corners of her lips fluttered upwards. Arachne smiled coyly into the gloom. “Besides, those two fools could hardly do much damage right under our noses, hm? Now they’re even proving to be of some use to us.”

Suddenly, Arachne’s web seemed to shudder behind her. The delicate threads trembled, pulsing from the force of a distant swell of pain which was accompanied by a howl seemingly projected from the threads themselves to fill the room. Her soft features never once flinched or showed any change in emotion. The woman raised her glass once more to her lips and finished off the few remaining drops of the dark liquid inside. She radiated serenity, despite the wailing which surrounded her. At the sight, Giriko raised a single eyebrow, ignoring the distant echoes which reverberated from the silk web. It connected every single part of the castle, so the chainsaw was used to hearing the sounds which would be projected from it. Laughter, whispers, crying, screams...

“And why don’t we just kill that annoying brat anyway? One less thing to worry about, if you ask me,” Giriko snorted. At those words, the final figure in the chamber tilted his head to one side, smirking at the elder man.

“And put him out of his misery?” Justin Law responded loudly from his position standing behind the Kishin, his eyes dark and cruel. Even from a distance, Giriko could hear the constant pounding beat of the wild cacophony which was channelled directly into the kid’s ears. He’d once heard the “music” the former Death Scythe listened to: it was no more than white noise. It screamed of insanity; probably just like the insides of that boy’s messed up head. “That seems far too kind. Our Lord Asura deserves to do whatever he so wishes with the reaper.”

Giriko turned his head away from the priest brat, scoffing under his breath.

“You’re just as fucked up as your boss, kid.”

The chamber abruptly fell into quiet once more when Arachne raised a single hand to silence them all. It even seemed to stop the noise which had echoed outwards from her web. Those haunting eyes of hers slid between both Justin and Giriko, glancing them over with regal authority.  

“I need you to make sure that everyone is ready,” she commanded to them both smoothly. Justin seemed to silently bristle at the fact she was giving him orders (the boy liked to make it clear that he was a follower of _Asura_ , not the spider queen. But the alliance between the two meant he had to do what she said anyway, much to his chagrin). “The DWMA will strike any day now, seeing as the little frog has probably already hopped off to inform them of… recent developments. We must be prepared to exterminate them like the pests they are, quickly.”

Giriko gave a gruff nod, tilting his head slightly in a small form of a bow, before dismissing himself and making his way out towards the large double doors of the chamber. Justin gave the Kishin a low bow and followed behind the chainsaw, ready to carry out their orders. Just as the two reached the exit, the doors opened inwards and another figure stepped inside. Mosquito emerged from the darkness, passing both Giriko and Justin, holding what appeared to be a bottle of red wine in his hands.

Noticing the new splash of red blood tarnishing the butler’s usually pristine white collar, Giriko paused in the doorway and smirked.

“Had a good ‘session’ did you, old man?” he barked loudly, earning a snort of contempt from the bloodsucker. Aside from that, Mosquito ignored him. So, after giving the butler the middle finger behind his back, Giriko left, following after Justin.

With nothing more than a bow and a greeting of “Lady Arachne”, the bloodsucker wordlessly refilled her empty glass with the red drink. Once that had been done, he took a step back, giving his mistress space to take another long sip. She chuckled ever so slightly after.

“My, it tastes even better fresh,” she praised her loyal butler, causing him to nod in response. “And I presume you did enjoy your… ‘ _session_ ’ as well.”

Mosquito grinned, sharp teeth visible. The image along with the blood splatter on his clothes made him seem more frightening than before.

“Of course, Lady Arachne.”

And with that, he departed, leaving the witch and Kishin alone. The moment the doors had closed behind the butler, Arachne slipped down from her web and glided over to Asura, joining him on his large, comfortable pillow. Their bodies were right up against each other, exchanging heat. His wavelength tingled across her skin, and she simply _adored_ the sensation.

Without any words, she brought her crystal goblet to his lips, inviting him to take a sip. His hand wrapped around her own, their eyes locking, before he indulged her and tilted his head back to taste the liquid ambrosia. When it had been done, the two shared an airy laugh, foreheads pressed together. In the dim light, their eyes sparked dangerously. A hiss left Arachne’s lips; a sweet poison of words.

“Reaper blood truly is divine.”

* * *

By the time Eruka and Free were able to slip away unnoticed from Baba Yaga Castle, the scarlet shade of the afternoon sky had begun to darken to the rich burgundy of night. Hidden by shadows and guarded by Eruka’s Soul Protect, the duo silently retreated into the night. They remained cautious; both instinctively turned around or stopped dead still whenever they heard the faintest noise: the breeze rustling through a tree, a distant squawk of a crow, insects chirping in the forest.

It was only when they emerged from the forests which surrounded Baba Yaga that both relaxed slightly, lowering their guard just a tiny bit. They still had to be aware, yet the danger was smaller the further they got away from that nightmare palace. With Eruka leading the way for a good half an hour of total silence, the witch and wolfman finally arrived at an empty village. Just like most old settlements, it had been left abandoned. There was no life here. Each crumbling ruin told a different story of the destruction which had been brought upon the lives of innocent humans. Humans who had never before brushed shoulders with witches or the Kishin or Clowns. It was… sad, really. How much had been destroyed. Eruka couldn’t bear to look at it all, quickly turning her face away and keeping her eyes rooted on the tarmac beneath her feet until they reached their destination.

This house appeared no different from the others surrounding it. Inside and out were falling to pieces. But there was one thing which made this house particularly special. Upstairs, in the second room on the right, there was a mirror propped up against the wall. Miraculously, it was still in one piece. The only one left not to have been shattered.

Eruka was the one to trudge up the rickety staircase carefully, whilst Free stood in the hallway below, staring out into the red night to make sure they were not being watched. They only had a short window of time to get this done. It was just a matter of going in, reporting back to what remained of the DWMA, and getting out once again.

After climbing the stairs and rushing to the room where the treasured mirror was located, Eruka breathed onto the glass and hastily wrote a series of numbers into the condensation with a trembling finger.

_ 42-42-564. _

Meanwhile, in the tunnels which ran below the fallen Death City, Tabatha Butterfly and Taruho Firefly were sitting on a bench, chattering away to each other over cups of far-too-watery coffee. Close to the two witches stood a tall, grand mirror, the glass cracked and broken.

Death’s mirror had been one of the only things the DWMA had been able to remove from the academy before it was destroyed. Though broken, the mirror was to an extent still functional. The last piece of the former Death Room now stood in a white-washed, claustrophobic space, nowhere near as grand as where it had formerly been located. This particular area always had to be monitored by someone, just in case a call came through. It was a tedious job, just sitting there, waiting. Nobody enjoyed it in the slightest. Hence, why most tended to work in pairs.

Both Tabatha and Taruho at first were far too engaged in their conversation to straight away pick up the slightly out-of-tune chime which faintly came from the shattered mirror. It was only when Eruka’s face appeared in the cracked glass, her image distorted, that Taruho leapt to her feet and ran off to quickly locate those “in charge”.

“Eru!” Tabatha gasped at the sight of her friend as she too shot up, almost spilling her coffee from the sudden movement. The butterfly fluttered over to the mirror quickly, eyes wide with concern. It was rarely good news when Eruka called unexpectedly. Her scheduled report session had been and gone already this week; whatever she had to say must have been urgent for her to have called in now. “Are you alright?”

“I’m not hurt, if that’s what you’re asking. Free is okay too, don’t worry,” the frog replied, her voice crackling as though she was speaking through static. Suddenly, a herd of people came charging into the room. Taruho led, sweat beading on her forehead, followed closely behind by Blair and Stein, the three last remaining Death Scythes: Spirit, Marie, Azusa, and Sid Barett and his partner Mira Nygus.

“Eruka,” Stein began firmly as he pushed his way to the front of the crowd, who were all wide-eyed with concern behind him. Even Azusa’s stony expression seemed to contain a shadow of worry. “What’s going on?”

Eruka gulped and fiddled with her soft blue hair nervously. There was no point wasting any time now, so she was unable to stop herself before she blurted out: “Arachne just announced that they’re going to kill Death the Kid.”

A collective gasp from Marie, Blair, Tabatha and Taruho filled the air. The rest of the group were left stunned into silence. Everyone felt their heart skip a beat in unison. Sid was first to speak up this time, his frown frozen in place.

“When?”

“A-at the next full moon, apparently…”

“What the hell’s up with that?” Spirit muttered, glancing at his companions. He was met by mainly blank stares in response, until the moment Azusa adjusted her glasses. The lenses caught the artificial bright lighting and flashed, like streaks of lightning through the room.

“I’m guessing it’s linked to some sort of ceremony or spell,” she replied dryly. “Maybe it’s the only time she can harness the ability to kill a reaper, or something along those lines. Am I right, ladies?” That last question was directed at the butterfly and firefly witches who stood beside each other. Both shook their heads in unison, however.

“I haven’t heard anything like that,” Tabatha muttered, scratching the back of her head in thought.

“The full moon is usually linked to rituals of prophecy, protection, and divination for us,” Taruho was quick to add. “But nothing along the lines of death or anything to do with the Grim Reapers. I’m surprised that Arachne didn’t decide to time this announcement with the phases of the waning moon or dark moon. Those are usually when we rid ourselves of “darkness”. In other words, our enemies…”

“Could it be some way to strengthen her own powers?” Marie suggested, which again was met by another quick shake of the head, this time from Eruka.

“Again, that sort of ritual occurs under a different moon phase. The new moon, more specifically.”

Blair huffed at the news, placing her hands on her hips. “Maybe she’s just doing it then for the theatrics. ‘At the next full moon’ does sound _far_ more dramatic than any other time.”

Stein quickly returned his attention back to the fractured mirror, giving Eruka a cold stare. His mouth was a tight line, face set in stone. His voice sounded clinical when he spoke once again. “When is the next full moon?”

“Just over a week’s time,” the woman’s image replied quickly. There was the briefest of pauses. Then:

“...I don’t think we should go rushing in there. It might be best to wait and see if Arachne really intends to go through with it.”

“ _ **What**_?!” Spirit, Marie, and Blair chorused loudly. Their wide eyes easily displayed their surprise at Stein’s words. His robotic tone sounded like he lacked any sense of caring, only adding to their confusion.

“Stein, we have to get Kid out of Baba Yaga,” Spirit gabbled, waving his arms around wildly in a manic attempt to emphasise his point. “He’s Lord Death’s son! What kind of Death Scythes are we if we just let him get killed?!”

“Correction,” Azusa muttered. “He _is_ Lord Death.”

“We can’t just leave him!”

“He’s only a child!” Marie was quick to add, her caramel eye watery and rippling as she grabbed onto Stein’s arm. Her single eye was staring up at him, silently _pleading_. “Franken, you can’t be serious. I don’t care what your reasoning is: we are not just going to sit here and let Arachnophobia kill that little boy.”

Stein stared back at her for a moment, lips pursed ever so slightly. The cogs in his mind were whirring, causing the tension in the atmosphere to tighten around them all. Nobody dared breath for a moment as they waited for his reaction. Finally, he released a sigh and lowered his head.

“All right. Eruka, report back at the same time tomorrow night. We will inform you and Free of our plan then.”

Eruka nodded firmly, giving him a sharp response. “Roger.” Then, with a crackle across the glass, her image disappeared as the call cut off. Stein shook his head, twisting his screw once, before spinning on his heels to face the other adults in the room once more.

“Azusa, take Tabatha and Taruho and go over the old plans of Baba Yaga Castle. There's a chance they're out of date now, but try to find weak points which we can use to our advantage.”

The three women in question nodded, before quickly departing to get the job done as soon as possible.

“Sid, Nygus,” The two which had been addressed immediately straightened their spines, standing to attention and awaiting his instructions. “I want you to get the students together. Train them as much as you can in the next few days. Blair and Marie might be able to help you. We’ll need them to fight if we’re really going to attempt this.”

“Which ones?” Mira questioned with a level voice, despite the fact she had a feeling she knew exactly who the professor meant.

“Black☆Star, Patty, Kilik, Kim, Anya, Maka, and their weapon partners.”

“Maka?!” Spirit was quick to bellow in panic, eyes widening the moment his daughter's name had passed Stein's lips. “You want to send _Maka_ to fight?!”

In response, Stein raised a single eyebrow and gave his former weapon a curt nod. “Of course. We need her ‘Soul Perception’--”

“No, Stein!” Suddenly, Stein was pinned up against the wall, the blade of a scythe pressed threateningly against his neck. Spirit was seething at him, one hand around the other man’s collar and the other fully transformed into the weapon. There was rage burning inside him, his teeth bared as though he were feral, yet the tears welling up in his eyes were impossible to miss.

“I don’t care if you need her ‘Soul Perception’. I am _not_ letting you send my daughter back in there! She is not going to her death again! Damn you, Stein, _I will not let that happen_!” The Death Scythe was shouting passionately, unknowingly releasing spittle as he all but ranted. “I lost her once. But I’m not losing her again. You can’t take my daughter away from me!” 

Stein didn’t respond. Instead, he simply looked down his nose at the red-haired man, expression unfaltering. Spirit’s breathing became heavy, and the arm which held the professor’s collar trembled from the adrenalin. Then, his voice cracked. A few tears spilled free.

“You can’t… I won’t let you…”

The moment he hung his head, Spirit found himself being pulled away from Stein by Marie, whose warm wavelength seemed to seep right into him and sooth his very core. She was strong, though, and held him back firmly. So much so that he was barely able to pull himself out of her grip. The moment Stein felt the scythe blade leave his neck, he stood upright again and adjusted his collar casually, before shooting his friend a lazy grin.

“Who said anything about her dying? I’m sure Maka will be fine. I have every confidence in her.”

Spirit glared back, shrugging Marie off him eventually. His hands were shoved into his pockets, and he turned around, heading to leave the room.

“You’d better not let her get killed, Stein.”

With that final bitter remark, the Death Scythe was gone. After an awkward pause with the remaining adults glancing around at each other, they all eventually departed to get their own work done, leaving Stein and Marie alone. The moment the others were out of earshot, Stein rolled his shoulders back and smirked to himself, glancing at Marie out of the corner of his eye.

“Looks like this will be the perfect opportunity for Maka to undo that wish of hers,” he stated. The demon hammer nodded in agreement and took a step forward to slip her hand into his. He clutched it back, tightly.

“Let’s just hope she can fix this mess,” the blonde muttered. That, in turn, caused Stein to glance down at her and smile. The nod he gave her was all the reassurance she needed. They both knew it: their students were exceptional. They were a reliable team to send into battle.

In the silence that followed, Stein mulled over the thoughts of his student team in his head. His memories momentarily flittered back to the conversation he’d had with Maka, and an idea came to him suddenly.

“Spartoi… That _is_ a good name.”

* * *

The training gym was busy with an energetic hustle and bustle of power. The air was musty with the thick stench of sweat, yet nobody seemed to care. They were all far too focused on themselves to pay attention to their surroundings.

Black☆Star wielded Tsubaki in a session of training combat against his mentor, Sid. The zombie had Nygus in her weapon form, and was swiftly moving to attack his adopted son. The child, on the other hand, was quick to dodge and reflect the attacks, and was focusing his energy on getting a strike back at him. His soul menace would occasionally be sent flying from his palms, straight into the elder man. After each round of sparring, they would stop for a while to discuss techniques, then get straight back into another set.

Blair was pushing Kilik to his limits by sending a constant stream of firing pumpkins hurtling in his direction. He was one of the DWMA’s top students, however, so he was able to keep on his toes and land some hits against them. Alongside him fought Patty, who was shooting out blasts of soul wavelength from Liz towards the magical cat, whilst dodging the bombs as well. Both students were able to destroy some of the pumpkins with their weapons before the attacks even reached them.

Anya and Kim were wielding Harvar and Jackie, respectively. The way the girls were standing there concentrating, it seemed as though they were trying to work on a group resonance. Yet, from how long it had been with no obvious effect, and based on how Kim was starting to snap back at a snarky Harvar, it didn’t appear to be going all that successfully.

Maka didn’t seem to be getting very far in her training, either. In fact, the entire training session so far had felt like a waste of time. It began rather awkwardly, with her attempting to sit on Soul in his weapon form, ready to fly around the space. Of course, she was quickly reminded of the fact that Soul was not a Death Scythe when no angel wings appeared from his blade, and he promptly went on to question what the hell she was doing sitting on him.

From that point on, it got worse. Soul felt heavier than usual when she tried to swing him round, as though he was being deliberately difficult. The scythe refused to respond to his meister throughout the entire attempt, and when it came to trying out resonance together… it backfired rather nastily. In fact, Soul completely closed his wavelength off to his partner’s. A brief spat between the two, caused by Maka accusing her weapon of “not trying hard enough”, resulted in Soul transforming into his human form once more and storming off out of the training gym before Maka had a chance to react.

Maka huffed in frustration, throwing her hands up in the air and marching to the other side of the room, before sitting down on a bench. She just couldn’t understand why Soul was being so stubborn about it all. It was probably odd for him that his dead meister had seemingly come back to life without any explanation. But even so, he didn’t have to act like such a child! He didn’t need to be so antagonistic with her.

Then again, Maka herself hadn’t exactly been truthful with him or any of her other friends either. She had been so swept away by the tidal wave of emotions since her return, mainly delight at this stage, that she just couldn’t bring herself to tell them all that she wasn’t the Maka they thought she was. She didn’t want to tell them that she had her own home to go back to. Her own world. Her own sky. A sky which was blue, not red.

It would have been too much of a bitter pill for them to have to swallow, and she just couldn’t face that. Not yet.

Resting her chin in her hands, the pigtailed girl pouted and watched as her friends continued with their training. Her jade eyes momentarily focused on Kilik, Patty, and Blair once again as they sped around dodging the cat’s exploding pumpkins. At least some people were getting work done…

“Isn’t Patty exceptional?”

Maka glanced up to see Anya, who was standing and watching the weapon in question as she seamlessly flitted back and forth between her weapon form and being wielded by Kilik, to acting as a meister herself and rapidly firing shots from Liz. There was something elegantly dangerous about how swiftly the girl moved, almost as though she were dancing.

“She really shows the rest of us up,” Anya continued as she sat down beside Maka, retaining her poise even when perched on the edge of the bench. “I admire her skill.” Maka shot the shorter girl a lopsided grin in response, giving her shoulders a casual shrug.

“I don’t know; you looked pretty good out there to me. You wield Harvar well,” the scythe meister spoke honestly, to which Anya’s cheeks quickly flushed pink. “I didn’t realise you were his meister now.”

Anya fiddled with a strand of her long golden hair whilst her sapphire eyes trailed over to where Harvar now stood, angrily arguing with Kim. Jacqueline was trying to get between the two and separate them, but her efforts were to no avail. At the sight, Anya sighed and shook her head.

“Well, Harvar needed a meister and I had no weapon so… it just made sense to at least try to work together,” she mused, almost to herself. “Turns out we seemed to fit. It wasn’t really that hard either; I have always been used to wielding spear-like weapons.”

Immediately, Maka picked up on how Anya’s tone seemed to have dropped, shifting into a slightly sombre mood. It didn’t take much thinking to come to the conclusion about why that had happened. Maka bit her lip when the image of Tsugumi appeared in her mind. Those violet eyes had been so full of innocence. She was only a kid. It wasn’t fair.

She placed a hand on Anya’s back, eyes sympathetic. “I’m sorry about Tsugumi and Meme.”

The soul of the younger girl seemed to ripple with a mixture of emotions. Sorrow, regret, guilt. Yet she took in a sharp breath and lifted her gaze once more to meet the striking green, returning the comment with a sharp nod. Just as refined as ever.

“Thank you,” she responded calmly, hiding any hint of any other emotion aside from pure composure. A natural quiet fell over the two girls, who sat and watched as their teammates continued to train. Well, most of them were working at least. Harvar and Kim still seemed to be arguing with each other. By the looks of how aggressive they were being, it was a miracle they hadn’t resorted to throwing punches yet. At the commotion, Anya sighed and ran a hand through her fringe with exasperation.

“Honestly, I do not know how the teachers expect us to work as a team when those two refuse to get along,” the muttered comment sounded more tired than annoyed. Maka quirked an eyebrow at that, before asking:

“What’s the matter with those two anyway?” It was rather odd for Maka to see them arguing in such a way. She was far too used to the “Beta Team” of Spartoi getting along as well as she did with her friends. The group were like a mini family, back in her version of reality. Yet here, they just didn’t seem to fit.

Anya released another heavy sigh at the question. “It’s quite simple, really. Harvar blames Kim for Ox’s death,” came her blunt response. “I’ve only heard Harvar’s side of the story, mind you. Apparently, Ox protected Kim from a rogue Afreet when they were out on a scouting mission above ground. He took a fatal hit for her… It’s rather romantic when you think about it.” There was a pause of discomfort. Once more, Anya’s eyes drifted back to her weapon. By now, the spear and the lantern meister had gone their separate ways. Kim sat with Jackie across the room from where Anya and Maka were seated, the weapon sharing her bottle of water with her meister. Anya’s weapon, on the other hand, had clearly left as he was nowhere to be seen in the gym. “Harvar feels rather... _bitter_ about it all, especially seeing as it turned out Kim didn’t even reciprocate Ox’s feelings.”

There was something else which Maka found to be an oddity in this “Red World”. In her home, Ox and Kim had been an on-off couple for a while now. Even if they did break up, they often got back together and were considered a serious item overall. But here, from the way they held hands and looked at each other all the time, it seemed as though Kim and Jacqueline were much more than just a weapon-meister partnership.

Anya speaking up again quickly pulled Maka out of her train of thought and back to the present.

“It’s made things difficult when working as a team. But Harvar’s a very loyal weapon.” The girl smiled to herself slightly, brushing off her skirt absent-mindedly. “We work well together, at least.”

Maka gave her a half-smile and a nod in agreement. At least, she thought, some good came of it all. Neither Anya nor Harvar were totally alone. That was better than nothing. It was better than not having any partner at all...

“Speaking of weapon partners, what about you and Soul?” Anya suddenly questioned, head tilted ever so slightly to one side as she scrutinised Maka with her piercing blue gaze. “You seemed to give up on training quickly.”

Maka lowered her head at that comment, eyes darkening ever so slightly. Her entire being felt deflated in that moment. “He… doesn’t seem to want to work with me.”

Anya frowned at the ash-blonde beside her, as though she was unable to understand what had just been said. Quiet draped over the two for a moment or so, letting Maka stew in her feelings whilst Anya pondered over the situation for a while. Finally, she spoke up once more.

“You know, I was Soul’s meister for a while.”

That caught Maka’s attention. Her ears pricked at the words and she lifted her head, green eyes locked on Anya with surprise. Soul had another meister? Something smouldered in the pit of her stomach briefly at that thought. Hurt, with an inch of envy. But she wasn’t going to act upon it. She simply raised an eyebrow at the comment, evidently surprised.  

“Really?”

“Oh yes. But it didn’t work between us.” The matter-of-fact response was coupled with a very direct stare from Anya to the other girl, those blue eyes drilling right into Maka and almost making her flinch. “He made it very clear from day one that he did not want to be wielded by anyone else except you, Maka. We barely lasted a month together. He hasn’t had a meister since.”

The news left the pigtailed girl stunned. When Maka didn’t respond instantly, however, Anya huffed and continued in her clipped manner.

“This is all rather overwhelming, for all of us. Especially as you haven’t even told us how you ended up back here.” There was a sigh to accompany her words. A pinch of frustration. Her stare never once left Maka, either, only adding intensity to the mix. “I understand if you do not want to tell most of us how this came to be, but at least be honest with your weapon partner. Show him that it’s really _you_. He deserves that more than any of us.”

There was a moment of clarity in Maka’s mind. It was so simple, yet it helped things fall into place. She knew what she had to do. Maybe it wouldn’t work, but there was no harm in trying at least.

Feeling a spark of adrenaline from the encouragement, the scythe meister all but leapt to her feet, a wide grin plastered on her face.

“You’re right!” Maka exclaimed, clenching her fists tightly. “I need to show that idiot exactly who I am!” With the grin still fixed firmly in place, Maka suddenly took off out of the training room, waving over her shoulder at the other girl and barely catching the smile she wore in return. “Thanks, Anya!”

The girl skidded out of the doorway and into the overbearingly lit hallways, sprinting as fast as her legs would carry her. Her pigtails flapped behind her as though they were caught in a gale. Her feet thundered down the empty corridors, so quickly that she almost sailed right past the familiar head of ivory-white hair leaving the communal kitchen. When she did catch sight of it out of the corner of her eye, however, Maka stopped abruptly and spun around to catch his attention.

“Soul!”

He promptly ignored her and continued walking off, causing her smile to be replaced by a deep-set frown. But still fuelled on by sheer determination, Maka marched up behind the boy and promptly slapped him across the back of the head.

“Ow!” Soul yelped from the sudden blow, a hand reaching up instinctively to rub the now throbbing back of his skull. The scythe had stopped, at least, and promptly turned around to narrow his scarlet eyes at his meister. “What the hell was that for?”

“I needed your attention!”

“Well you’ve got it now. What the hell do you want?”

Maka reached forward quickly and took his hands in her own, yet he flinched at the contact. But she stayed firm, squeezing reassuringly. Her striking eyes softened, expression melting back into a smile when she looked at him.

“I want you to resonate with me,” she explained, voice much calmer than it had been before. Still, Soul frowned back at her, as though he was retreating behind a wall of emotions. Maka sighed heavily and lowered her eyes at that.

“Look, I understand that this is confusing for you. I wish I could explain how I’m here… But you have to believe me. It’s really _me_ ,” she began. Maka heard her own voice in her ears, discovering that she sounded much more nervous than she had originally realised. Still, she took in a breath and continued on, with as much drive and stubborn will-power as ever. “And I can’t think of any other way I can prove it to you aside from this… So would you please just resonate with me? Listen to my wavelength. I promise, Soul, I’m not lying to you.”

There was a pause which hung in the air. Meister and weapon stared at each other, neither one wanting to break contact first. The hush around them both swaddled them up, all encompassing. Soul spoke no words at all, yet Maka noticed something change in those red eyes of his. Something shifted. They dropped ever so slightly.

No words needed to be spoken. Both closed their eyes in unison and concentrated. Soul visualised reaching outwards to grasp at something a familiar to him. A recognisable soul. He felt that wavelength first, prodding at his own and encouraging him gently to open the gates. After a hesitation, Soul finally gave in. He reached forward and allowed the other soul to wrap around his own.

Soul was a musician. His ears heard stories that would not be visible to the naked eye. It was his musical edge which helped him sense the souls around him. Each was unique in its pitch, timbre, tempo, volume, and mood. Every soul had its own unique song.

Anya’s had been like listening to classical music. Smooth, elegant, graceful. Yet it was relatively nervous, lacking the strength and force of a more experienced meister. The orchestra which had sounded when they attempted to resonate was pleasant to listen to, but not quite right to him. It lack that spark which came with practice.

He’d once heard Stein’s song when he briefly wielded the scythe during a training exercise. It had been erratic and loud, overbearing. It felt like the sort of white-noise which could split your skull in half. That had not been a pleasant experience in the slightest.

And then there was this soul, now. The one surrounding his own. Engulfing it. Submerging it in its beautiful melody. This song was bold and triumphant, full of brave gusto. But it also had a cheerful tune. One which you could hum along to easily. This was the song of a soul he knew.

This was Maka’s song. Maka’s soul.

He opened his eyes with a gasp, to be met by those vivid green looking right back at him. She was smiling at him, expression soft and warm. He smiled back, awkwardly.

It wasn’t clear who made the first move. But in the next heartbeat, their arms were wrapping around each other, pulling one another into a comforting embrace. Their souls sparked and fluttered at the contact with joy because finally, they both knew, they were together again.


	5. Chapter 5

The days were going by too quickly for Marie’s liking. Yes, the children were all incredibly talented meisters and weapons and she always found herself in awe when she watched them training so hard, every hour they could, but she couldn’t help but feel that they all needed more _time_. Even the more experienced Death Scythes and teachers felt as though they were going to be charging headfirst into a battle of massive proportions without being properly prepared for it. Time was not a luxury they had. Not anymore.

However, a part of her felt some pride over the fact that they would finally be leaving the tunnels properly and attempting to make a stand against Arachnophobia. She hated the fact they had been forced into hiding for so long. It was a humiliation to what the DWMA once was. They had been crippled, forced to retreat with their tails between their legs into the shadows. And there they had stayed for the past two years, crammed into claustrophobic tunnels like rats.

It wasn’t just an issue about repairing their damaged pride, though. There were much more pressing, practical reasons for Marie’s desire to get out and above ground once more. The underground shelters had clearly not been designed for long-term habitation. Supplies were beginning to dwindle, a definite omen that they couldn’t stay down there forever. They had enough to survive for a while, but who knew how long that while would be? It may have been a small one but they still had an army to feed. If they had waited a bit longer to take the initiative to fight against Arachnophobia, Marie feared they would starve before dying in combat.

Besides, she didn’t want the future to be forced underground. They needed to rise up now for the generations yet to come.

Marie sighed at the thought, placing a hand on her stomach as she shook her head. The fabric of her top was smooth, yet there was a pulsing warmth beneath she could feel brushing her fingertips. Unique from the clothing and her own body heat.

“I already told you, Marie,” Stein’s voice suddenly pulled her out of her thoughts. Her head snapped up and she quickly looked her over shoulder, seeing him standing in the doorway of their room. He leaned against the threshold lazily, arms crossed and posture slouched. Though his expression was blank, the eyes locked on her seemed to be darker than usual. “You can’t come. It’s far too dangerous.”

The demon hammer frowned at him in response, her single eye narrowing ever so slightly before she turned her head away once more. Peeling the black jacket from her frame, Marie cleared her throat. The weight of her tone sounded like she was physically putting her foot down when she responded to him.

“And I already told _you_ : I am not leaving your side, Franken. You _know_ how concentrated the madness wavelength is out there. You can’t expect me to let you go above ground alone.”

“Marie--”

“I’m coming, whether you like it or not,” she interrupted firmly. There was no room for negotiation when she spoke. “I’m a Death Scythe. I’m strong enough.”

Stein released a faint sigh, showing more frustration at his partner rather than him backing down to her stubborn ways. After running a hand through his shaggy hair, he cast her a tired glance. In the flickering white lighting, the dark circles shadowing under his eyes were so much more pronounced.  

“You do realise that this is probably a trap,” Stein began. He was not one to go rushing into things, and his hesitation in regards to launching an attack against the DWMA’s enemies was more than apparent. “Arachnophobia is just trying to draw us out with the threat of killing him.”

Marie deflated just a bit, her shoulders drooping. Carelessly, she discarded her jacket by throwing it over the back of a chair, before she walked to her bed and flopped upon it, releasing an exaggerated huff as she did. “I know.”

“They’re not going to kill Kid,” the scientist stated matter-of-factly as he seated himself down on the chair, being careful not to disrupt the article of clothing or cause it to fall to the floor. Whilst he was busy getting comfortable, the demon hammer felt her eyebrow twitch momentarily. She was getting rather fed up of his monotone voice. Especially when Marie _knew_ that Stein cared, even if he tried to mask it.

“He’s only a child, Stein. Whether they intend to kill him or not, we can’t leave him any longer.”

“That boy never had the luxury of being a child…”

Marie sat up just enough to shoot a scowl at him. He responded with a deadpan expression, seemingly unfazed by the death glare aimed in his direction.

“I’m not saying we shouldn’t go,” Stein explained, exasperation only just audible in the words. He cast a pointed look at the woman as her glare slowly morphed into a pout. “I still believe, however, that _you_ should stay here for your own safety.”

The two adults went quiet, staring each other down in a silent battle of wills. Marie’s caramel-coloured eye narrowed defiantly, whilst the tired green gaze of Stein appeared to be sighing itself.

“We’re _all_ going together. End of discussion,” Marie eventually spoke up once more, just as stubborn as her expression. A dry laugh was released at that, lacking humour. It found nothing funny in the moment, only released to mock how ridiculous it all felt. Their circular arguments never got anyone anywhere.

“Why are you so adamant?” Stein asked after the last of his chuckles trailed off into the atmosphere. Marie’s gaze dropped at that, eye focusing on her hands. She sat there, fiddling with her own fingers, very much aware of how the professor’s eyes were drilling right into her skull.

“I’m not going to abandon anyone, Stein. We’re all in this together.” She nodded firmly, as though she was reassuring herself first. Yet her voice was steady and confident, and when she raised her head, Stein was met with an eye as hard and strong as steel. “If you don’t send me above ground, then you can’t send the children either. And you honestly can’t expect us to stay down here forever. We need to take this opportunity while we can.”

At that, Stein reclined in his seat, face neutral with thought. His lips twisted oddly, as though he was imagining chewing on something between his teeth. He probably would have killed for a cigarette at that moment. But the tall man nodded slowly in agreement, a hum rumbling at the back of his throat.

“And Maka can try and attain Arachne’s soul,” he smirked, only just revealing a flash of his teeth. Marie glanced at him and frowned softly. Her eyebrows knitted together, forehead creasing with lines that had not been there before they were all forced underground.

“Do you believe her?”

His smirk grew wider, before it split into a bought of short, sharp laughter. “Her story was too far-fetched _not_ to be true.”

Marie couldn’t help but chuckle at that. He had a point. When her faint laughter died down with an exhaled sigh, she lowered her gaze to stare at her hands once more. The faintest pink blush blossomed on her cheeks as she spoke again.

“She said we had a child together... in her world.”

Stein slid his eyes lazily over to the woman in the room. Without a single word, he stood and strode over to her, before perching himself on the edge of her bed. After a breath, the meister reached out and placed his palm over the slight bump which was Marie’s stomach. The corners of his eyes crinkled in happiness, the faintest smile tugging at his features when he felt the flutter of a soul beneath his large hand.

“I guess some things never change.”

* * *

It was at an ungodly hour, at the crack of dawn, that the group assembled together in the room where Death’s mirror stood. There was a bristling eagerness which filled the space and made the air viscous with anticipation. Black☆Star could barely stand still, jumping up and down, helping the adrenaline pump through his veins like fuel. Even Tsubaki, usually calm and gentle, seemed to twitch in readiness, fiddling with her fingerless glove to keep her occupied.

Liz and Patty could hardly contain themselves. The elder was wringing her hands as though nervous, yet there was a large grin slapped across her face which many of the students had not seen in a very long time. Patty, on the other hand, wore a colder expression. With her hair pulled back in a small ponytail, the scar on her face was visible. Yet she wore it with pride, and had the air of a soldier preparing to charge into battle about her.

The group as an entire unit, at a glance, appeared more militaristic than a bunch of school kids. With them all dressed in black, it looked as though they were a military funeral procession getting ready to depart. And despite them sharing the same name, this group looked like a far cry from the white and blue Spartoi team Maka was used to. But at the same time, at their core, this was what they always were. Soldiers.

Maka stood beside Soul and glanced around at her friends. She was wearing her familiar black coat. Apparently, it had been one of the few things of hers Soul had managed to retrieve during the fall of Death City. The hem was far more torn and tattered than she remembered, yet wearing it brought an odd sense of familiarity. A strange comfort before they went diving into the unknown. She felt ready for battle; a feeling she knew she shared with everyone else from the way their souls seemed to flutter and simmer excitedly.

Once everyone had crowded around the Death mirror and settled down, Stein cleared his throat prominently to quiet the children. His olive eyes were darker than usual, and seemed to burn with determination, glinting behind his glasses. “All right then. Before we go charging off, let’s recap the plan.”

The students nodded eagerly, clearly impatient to get going. The adults didn’t know how they had the energy so early in the day. Stein rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed, before glancing to Spirit. The Death Scythe took the hint and stepped forward, reciting what everyone had already heard at least a hundred times before.

“Sid, Nygus, and their forces have already gone on ahead of us. They will be distracting the Clowns and Arachnophobia’s army as much as they can, hopefully giving us a relatively free path inside of the castle,” he stated firmly, allowing for a pause so he could give the students a prominent stare. His gaze did soften when it fell on his daughter, green eyes swirling with worry when he saw how ready she was to go off and fight. “Do _not_ let their efforts go in vain. We need to get in and out as quickly as we can. And don’t let yourselves get killed or captured. If there are any signs of trouble, evacuate _immediately_.”

“Your main objective is the retrieval of Lord Death.  I will remain here to help you navigate the castle and locate him,” Azusa added coolly as she adjusted her glasses. Her face was set in a stern, harsh frown as she addressed the group standing before her. “However, as you know, our intel from Free and Eruka has informed us that the Moral Manipulation Machine is still up and running, and helping to maintain the Clowns and Afreets. If anyone can get to the machine and shut it down, it will make everything easier for us in the long run.”

Stein cleared his throat, and everyone’s attention swung to him. “Also, if anyone can see an opening to try and take down Arachne, I encourage them to make an attempt. But, this is only if the situation presents itself.” There was a pregnant pause as the professor’s olive eyes snapped over and locked on Maka Albarn, whose head twitched forward slightly in a minimalist nod. She understood exactly what she needed to do. Stein smirked at her, before returning his focus to the entire group. “But for the love of Death, nobody attempt to fight Asura alone. He is much more powerful, even if he is a coward. I highly doubt anyone could take him on single-handedly.”

There seemed to be a collective bristling silence from the students at that, as wary glances were exchanged between them. Their faces were set in stone frowns, yet their eyes blazed with readiness. They were all well aware of the risks of this mission. However, there seemed to be a shared mentality that they were going to do whatever they could during it to fight back as much as possible. Even if it meant disobeying orders.

As if she could sense their train of thought, Azusa quickly cut them all off with another sharp clearing of her throat and a quick nod of her head. “All right. Good luck, everyone.”

As though acting on cue, both Tabatha and Taruho took a step forward to face the fractured mirror. Their expressions were bright and sunny as they turned their attention to the people on the other side of the glass: Eruka and Free.

“Ready, Eru?” the two witches below ground chorused in unison, holding their hands out towards the glass. Eruka gave a firm nod and mimicked the action and Free took a step back away to give his partner some space.

“Ready!”

Without hesitation, the three began chanting, their voices complimenting each other like a harmony. To the mortal ear, their murmured, rushed words sounded like nothing more than gibberish. Yet there was power behind their mutterings and the room seemed to swell and throb with a pulsing force. The breeze picked up as though a tempest was fast approaching, and Maka felt a momentary panic flutter in her chest. This magic felt so similar to that of the DIJINN… Her hand clasped tightly around the locket hanging from her neck. It was warm beneath her flesh, almost buzzing with static electricity as though reacting to the energy in the atmosphere around them all. The wind howled, and for a moment, Maka feared she would watch the world around her blur once again. That she would be ripped away from her friends again.

Suddenly a blinding flash of light seemed to explode from the glass surface of the mirror, causing the group to quickly shield their eyes from the burning whiteness. The witches’ chants reached a crescendo, echoing over the now roaring gale. And then, with one last harmonious shout from the trio, everything went still. The wind dropped with a quiet sigh, the brilliant light instantly snuffing out with a breath. Once the calm returned, the group of students and teachers lowered their hands from their eyes and turned their attention to Death’s mirror.

It seemed as though the object was now _alive_ , as it thrummed with energy like a heartbeat. The glass seemed to shimmer and ripple like water. Around the cracks which had been left in the mirror, the image flickered, similar to the static on a faulty television.

“This is it, then,” Spirit muttered and took a single step forward. Reaching out, his fingers ghosted over the glass of the mirror. It rippled like an unsettled lake under his touch. Then, he plunged his whole hand through the object. The moment he felt the cool wind of the outside world brushing against his flesh, the Death Scythe gave a curt nod to those behind him and then stepped through, vanishing from the underground room.

After that, the others were quick to follow. Both Liz and Patty practically shoved themselves to the front of the group and rushed through the portal as though the world around them was on fire. Soul had hesitantly taken Maka’s hand in his own, to which she gave a reassuring squeeze as a gesture of support as they both went out into the outside world together.

As they all herded through, Black☆Star was stopped on his advancement suddenly by something pulling on his trouser leg. Tsubaki stopped almost in time with him, and both glanced at each other in confusion before glancing over their shoulders. The sight which met their eyes was a tearful Angela, stubbornly digging her heels into the ground and clasping so tightly onto the meister’s clothing that her arms looked tensed, the knuckles hidden under her gloves probably white.

“Black☆Star!” her voice came out strained and pitiful when she spoke. The young witch sniffed loudly and stared at the boy with large, watery eyes. “I want to come with you and Tsubaki!”

Beside him, Black☆Star heard his weapon suck in a sharp breath. Her indigo eyes were quick to dart from the child back to him, focused in on his stoic expression. There was an odd, bristling worry behind the depths of her irises, as though she wasn’t sure how he would react to the witch. The boy cracked a toothy smirk, however, and crouched down so he was at eye level with the little girl. The smirk softened and became a warm grin as he reached out to ruffle her hair affectionately.

“Nah, I have an even more important mission for you.” His tone had a jovial melody to it which Tsubaki hadn’t heard in a long time. It brought a faint smile back to her features, a breath of relief. Black☆Star had a much more optimistic demeanour now they were going out to make an attack on Baba Yaga. _Finally_. “You need to stay here with Tabatha and Taruho and make sure they’re okay. Can you do that for me?” With those words, his head titled to indicate towards the two insect witches in question, who were nervously waving off the DWMA forces and shouting out words of encouragement to their friends on the other side of the portal. Angela stared at them for a while, yet the upset on her face had yet to fall.

“But what if you don’t come back? What if you leave me, like Mifune?”

The eyes of the meister hardened, his smile falling once more. As he stood, spine stiff and proud, a part of him knew that what he was about to say would probably be a lie. There was no way he could have been certain. Yet, another part, his heart and soul, was encouraging to provide one last comfort before they departed.

“I’ll come back; I promise. We _all_ will.”

He didn’t wait to see if Angela had believed him. Wordlessly, he turned away again, grabbing Tsubaki’s hand and dragging her through the mirror portal. Like walking through a tunnel of light, his other senses were overwhelmed and numb by the brightness surrounding them. Azusa’s final statement of good luck only just met his ears as the doorway sealed itself shut behind them. And once the light dimmed, he breathed out.

This was it; they were above ground again.

* * *

The trek to Baba Yaga went by without a hitch. Both Eruka and Free were ready and waiting for the Spartoi when they arrived through the mirror, supplying them with Arachnophobia cloaks and masks. Just like the first time. So they went concealed, able to hide in plain sight behind a thin veil of the enemy’s appearance.

No words were spoken as they departed the abandoned village nearby Baba Yaga. Each member of the group barely breathed whilst they made their journey, concealed in the thick fog of the scarlet dawn. Nobody would have been awake at this time. If there had been anyone else there.

Aside from the early morning mist, the air felt heavy and viscous. The wavelength which polluted the atmosphere caused shudders to run down their nerves, goosebumps to prick at their flesh, chills to seep into their bones. And Maka could see out of the corner of her eye how tightly Marie held onto Stein’s hand. He twitched and bit down on his tongue to suppress the giggles which dared to try and slip free, his pupils dilated He was mentally battling himself to keep it together.

She didn’t envy him one bit.

“There it is,” Eruka breathed out, causing Maka’s attention to snap away from her professor and instead lock on the sight ahead of the group. Towering out of the mist, silhouetted against the foreboding crimson skies above, Baba Yaga Castle loomed over them all. It was so much larger than Maka had remembered, with giant towers of black stone which kissed the heavens. It was eerie, cold. She shuddered.

The feeling was most certainly mutual amongst the group, and Jackie frowned at the palace before them. “I hate this place…” she muttered darkly, eliciting an amused giggle from her meister. Kim fired a cheeky wink at the lantern and replied, “Awh, I thought you wanted to live in a castle? Hey, we could’ve had this one after we’d won~!”

“I’d rather I had my _own_ castle, thank you very much. Or Anya could give me hers.”

“You wish,” the younger student in question grinned, but she was quickly cut off by the sound of Black☆Star cracking his knuckles eagerly and Harvar clearing his throat. Behind his glasses, it was possible to see the way the spear weapon had narrowed his eyes in an icy glare, which he continued to focus in Kim’s direction.

“Now’s not the time for this.”

“Harvar’s right,” Marie added firmly, her eye darting in the direction of her meister partner, who already had spent far more time outside, exposed to the Kishin’s wavelength, than she was comfortable with. “Eruka, Free, you need to get us inside right now.”

“We’ll have to go round the back. It’s risky, but after your last visit, Arachne had the tunnels sealed up. We don’t have many other options now,” the frog witch began explaining as she started off walking down from the village, drawing nearer to the castle ahead. “It shouldn’t be too hard if Sid and his team are distracting Arachne’s forces, like you planned.”

Luckily for them, it seemed as though the plan _was_ working. As they were leaving the woods that surrounded Baba Yaga Castle, they were finally able to hear the fight going on in the early morning sunrise. The DWMA were horribly outnumbered, and even with Sid’s experienced military leadership, it was highly likely the group was not doing well in the battle, pounding on through a fight they were bound to lose. It was a suicide mission to open up a gateway for the much smaller group to get inside. They all knew it. The children each felt heavy inside at the thought. Nobody could bear to look back or listen to the white noise of screams which emitted from the fight.

The group easily slipped by the raging battle going through the shrubbery of the forests, keeping themselves hidden as much as they could. It was only when they were sure clear of both forces that they dared to step out from the shadowed canopy and approached the far quieter back of the castle. The silence was suffocating, everyone finding it difficult to breath behind the hot masks. Though it felt as though the tension was pressing down on their lungs, and every inhale echoed in their minds far more loudly than what was truly the case.

Free, with no prior prompt, took a step forward and the next thing everyone knew, he was climbing up the rocky wall of the castle, surprisingly quickly. His muscular arms seemed to shake as he heaved his body upwards, but in next to no time he had approached a large window on the first floor and was prying it open with his long claws. The wolfman all but fell inside after that, the loud _thump_ caused by the force of his body hitting the floor echoing to the DWMA students and teachers down below. They all winced, tension settling in their shoulders. If someone inside the castle had heard that…

Their fears were somewhat calmed when Free stuck his now unmasked head out of the window and grinned down at them, causing Eruka to sigh heavily and mutter “that oaf.” under her breath. A collective sigh rushed into the red skies above, some of the students daring to release the faintest nervous laugh as a momentary relief accompanied the adrenalin coursing through their veins. Lady Luck really did seem to be on their side today.

From that point on, getting into the castle was easy. Almost too easy. Once the window had been opened, all it took was for Kim and Jackie to go a few rounds flying everyone up and dropping them off safely. It was no surprise that Black☆Star insisted on climbing up himself, and then insisted on racing up the witch and her weapon to the top. He then proceeded to brag about his victory once he fell inside, ignoring the fact that the extra weight of Stein on the lantern had slowed Jacqueline down rather significantly.

When everyone was safely inside, the group removed their disguises and began to quietly descend down the gloomily lit corridor, following Eruka and Free up ahead. Those two were on edge, their eyes constantly darting around in the dark as they slipped in and out of the shadows.

“Looks like Arachne redecorated,” Kilik mumbled whilst he glanced around the long hallways. The interior of the castle had developed an old-fashioned, almost medieval, European feel. Large tapestries styled like intricate spider webs and decorated with millions of Kishin eyes which seemed to follow the group’s every move hung of the dark walls, illuminated faintly by black chandeliers suspended from the ceiling, casting dim pools light. The Pot twins, who had been waddling along near the back of the group, seemed to have a strong curiosity which caused them to run off to stare at the various murals, leaving Kilik to constantly have to rush back, scoop them up, and march them back over to the DWMA again.

“You should put those kids on a leash,” grumbled Patty the third time Kilik returned from having had to go charging off again. Once he had set the two children down, however, the chandelier light-bulbs suddenly flickered. In a breath, they all went out at once. Eruka stopped abruptly, halting the entire group.

A pause. They waited in silence, on full alert. Everyone was tense. Then, Soul spoke up, his voice hissing through the quiet.

“Do you hear that?”

Footsteps. The steady rhythm was getting louder and louder as they drew closer. Someone was approaching.

Without a need of a signal, Soul, Harvar, and Tsubaki instantly transformed and landed in the ready hands of their respective meisters. Black☆Star held the katana close to his chest, the blade pointing outwards, whilst Maka and Anya hung back, still ready to strike if need be. Kilik swiftly positioned himself directly in front of the Pots, shielding them from the view of whoever it was drawing closer.

“Welcome, DWMA. We were expecting you,” a voice echoed around them all. Everyone froze, ice running through their veins. Jackie edged closer to Kim, taking her hand nervously. Sweat was beading on her forehead, and she seemed to be shaking just a little. Kim wore a similar look of panic, turquoise eyes darkening with apprehension. They knew that voice. It was a voice they both wanted to forget.

Eruka swallowed and took a step back, towards Free, who gripped her shoulder. “Oh no…” she whispered, voice trembling. Free’s expression remained stony and cold, and he tensed in the gloom.

And then, he appeared. A figure emerged from the shadows, tipping his head to the group in a polite bow. He was relatively handsome, dressed in a finely tailored suit with a crisp white shirt beneath. His dark hair was slicked back to completely show his chiselled face, his skin smooth and perfect. Yet that exposure revealed there was blood-lust in his black irises, and a sickening smirk on his face which revealed a pair of sharp fangs.

“I am most glad to see that you did not pass up Lady Arachne’s invitation,” the stranger spoke with the utmost courtesy. It set them all on edge.

“Who the hell is that?” Black☆Star growled lowly, hairs bristling at the smirk the man wore and his eyes narrowed in his direction. Tsubaki was still raised threateningly, ready for a fight.

Liz gulped, her cheeks deathly pale. “Mosquito…”

That name caused Black☆Star to momentarily loosen the tension in his shoulders as he raised an eyebrow in surprise, glancing at the blonde girl out of the corner of his eye. “What? The old guy?”

“This is one of his other forms,” the older Thompson explained quickly, her gaze never once daring to leave the bloodsucker before them. “We encountered him with Kid last time and he’s… he’s really, _really_ dangerous.”

“Where is Kid, you son of a bitch?!” Patty shrieked all of a sudden. Her eyes appeared wild and bloodshot, burning with a rage she was unable to keep pent up. Even her friends flinched at her outcry. The enemy, however, remained cool and collected.

“The reaper?” Mosquito chuckled darkly, that sneer of his twisting to become more grotesque. The man calmly adjusted his collar, then both his cuffs, ignoring the tension which weighed down in the atmosphere. “He isn’t of any concern to you right now. You should all be far more worried about _me_.”

Suddenly, he darted forward in the blink of an eye, charging straight at the group. Liz and Patty were swift to react, and the moment the bloodsucker had lurched, they were already leaping into the air and transforming into their pistol forms, landing in Kilik’s open hands. The teen pushed himself to the front of the cluster of DWMA members and rapidly began firing shots from the two guns. But when he saw that the shots of bright soul wavelength skimmed past the advancing Mosquito as the man was moving too fast for him to land a hit, he cursed loudly and shot a panicked glance over his shoulder to his friends.

Kim didn’t need any more of a clearer cue, and with a forceful shout of “Jackie!” her partner had followed suit and transformed. No sooner was the lantern ready, a sharp tug on the weapon had smouldering flames roaring to life, creating a dense smoke screen. The ashy shield surrounded and enveloped the DWMA before Mosquito could reach them, effectively shielding them from view behind a veil of suffocating ash.

“New plan,” Stein hissed as he snapped his attention to the students crowded around him, keeping his voice low enough so that it could not be heard through the thick smoke. “There isn’t much time, so you all go and find Kid and get out of here as quickly as possible. We’ll deal with him. Eruka, Free, guide the students to where they need to go.”

After casting wary glances at each other, the students eventually gave a small nod in unison, worry evident on their features.

“Stay safe,” Anya whispered, glancing at the three adults. Marie offered a warm smile in response, providing all the reassurance she could give. There was the briefest hesitation, before the children nodded once more to each other and darted away, following behind Eruka as she slipped down another corridor, out of Mosquito’s sight.

Just as Maka was about to leave, Spirit quickly reached out and touched her shoulder, halting her in her tracks.

“Maka,” he began quietly, causing her to glance over her shoulder at her father. His expression was… fearful. Anxious. It made her stomach drop. The man had to bite his lip, as though he wanted to say a million things but knew he didn’t have the time. Eventually, he settled on a sigh and softly pleaded. “Be careful. Please.”

Maka sucked in a sharp breath and lowered her gaze, unable to face the fear in his eyes. “I will be.” And with that minor attempt at reassurance, she dived into the shadows, her rushed footsteps gradually growing fainter as she ran deeper into the castle with the rest of her friends.

By the time the smoke cleared, there was no sign of the students or the witch and wolfman who had accompanied them. Mosquito, who had been hacking and coughing on the burning fumes, raised his head and glared with a piercing loathing at the remaining adults. Stein stood, flanked by Marie and Spirit, who wore similar expression of ferocity. The silver-haired professor cracked a toothy grin, olive eyes flashing in the dark.

“You should be worried about us,” he spoke in that dry monotone of his, yet the underlying threat was forcing its way to the surface.

With that said, Spirit and Marie simultaneously began glowing. Mosquito watched with interested amusement as the two weapons transformed, Stein grasping the scythe in his right hand, whilst Marie in hammer form settled in his left. The bloodsucker raised a single eyebrow at the sight, before his sickening grin returned, fangs gleaming in the darkness.

“Dual wielding two Death Scythes, hm?” he chuckled, locking eyes with the cold green irises that stared him down. “That takes a lot of confidence to attempt such a thing. Or maybe it’s just pure arrogance.” He received no more response than that stone-cold scowl. Mosquito’s beady black eyes flashed, and he cleared his throat. “You must be one of the DWMA’s best. And I do love a challenge. I’ll enjoy exterminating you.”

With a tremendous roar, the bloodsucker lurched forward once more, barely in the blink of an eye. Stein quickly dodged with a dart to his side, feeling the adrenalin pounding in his ears and numbing all sound around him. Marie’s healing wavelength was blasting through his being, coursing through his soul and helping his vision stay clear, forcing the voices to the very back of his mind. In this state, he could easily fight.

“Now, Marie!” he commanded forcefully, his soul reaching out to hers for resonance. They linked, activating Izuna without hesitation. The rope coiled around his wrist, instantly activating at the contact. In that moment, his nerves were lightning. Spinning on his heels with incredible speed, the professor charged at Mosquito head-on. Seemingly taken aback by the suddenly heightened abilities of his foe, the bloodsucker stumbled back slightly, gritting his teeth in frustration.

Stein was quick to take the opportunity when it presented itself, swinging Spirit round forcefully in an arc and catching Mosquito against the razor-sharp blade. At the same time, Marie quickly reverted back to human form, still tightly clutching onto Stein’s hand. Using the momentum from her partner’s movement, she swung round on the inside, positioning herself between the meister and the enemy caught on Spirit. Using Stein as leverage and channelling all the force she could conjure up, the petite woman leapt and kicked her feet out. Her kick landed directly in Mosquito’s chest with a satisfying _crunch_ , sending the butler falling backwards straight into Spirit’s blade and cutting him right in half.

Or at least, that was the intention. The moment his torso scraped the scythe, the man suddenly started to… _dissipate_ , into a swarm of millions of black bat-like creatures. Marie landed and gasped, her single caramel eye widening at the sight. Stein was glaring, barely noticing how Spirit’s image appeared in the blade, cursing _“Shit!”_ with horror.

Mosquito’s laughter echoed all around them as the swarm flew a few feet away, merging together in a blur until the man himself was standing once more, in one piece, where the bats had once been. His grin grew wider at the expression of shock Marie was displaying, and he cackled with delight.

“Did you really think it would be that easy to defeat me?” he mocked, observing with amusement as Stein’s hand tightened around Marie’s. “This was my form from eight hundred years ago – when I was at my most numerous!”

His hands were thrown up into the air a heartbeat later, Mosquito releasing a raging shout of “Nightmare Noise!” which caused a sudden explosion of the bat-like to swarm to shoot out and rain down upon Stein and Marie. The woman let out a scream of shock as the barrage crushed down upon them relentlessly, like she was drowning under a tidal wave of pure energy. The swarm seemed to slice and cut at their flesh and clothes, leaving their bodies stinging. But what worried the demon hammer the most was how, as she was forced to her knees by the suffocating swarm, her hand slipped from Stein’s. In that moment, she felt her healing wavelength link to him shatter instantly. When she tried to call out for him, she found her voice drowned out by the white noise of the swarm, her vision blinded by the rushing blackness engulfing them.

Stein himself had been forced back a few feet by the barrage, dropping Spirit with a clatter as he was overwhelmed. The moment Marie slipped right through his fingers, however, the swarm became much less of a problem. The awful stench of insanity which had been able to block was creeping up on him, distracting him from the battle at hand. Red began to seep into his vision, his skin crawling and prickling under the madness wavelength. He could feel shudders and spasm course through him, and an unbidden, manic giggle escaped him. His eyes twitched, lips flickering upwards and warping into a grin. Without thinking, his judgement clouded by the hallucination of millions of Kishin eyes staring at him, Stein thrust his hands forward. His soul menace attack went rocketing forward instantly, tearing a void through the black swarm of chaos and causing it to disintegrate.

The moment it did, Marie was running to him, panic blazing in her eye. When she reached her meister, she grabbed his arm and sent a shockwave of her wavelength through him, drilling right into his very core. His laughter died down, the spasms and twitches ending abruptly.

Whilst Marie dealt with Stein, Spirit had quickly reverted back to his human self and ran straight at Mosquito. The gleaming blades of his weapon form shot out from his arms instantly, giving him the opportunity to swipe at the butler. Mosquito was faster than the weapon, however, and dodged the attempted attack without breaking a sweat. Yet Spirit Albarn was relentless, and continued trying to land a strike at their enemy.

“A little help here would be nice, you two!” he snapped smarmily over his shoulder, glancing quickly as Marie helped Stein back to his feet. The professor gave a stiff nod and held his hand out for the blonde woman. Taking the hint, she flashed back into her hammer form, allowing Stein to grab her. The moment his fist tightened around her handle, he raised his arm high above his head and, with all the strength he could muster, as well as Marie’s pure brute-force which came whenever they resonated, he slammed the weapon down onto the stone floor below.

The whole room seemed to shake from the force of the blow, the quake causing a large tear to run right through the ground. Rubble went flying, the floor splitting open as the walls and ceiling shook as though the wrath of the Gods had just been unleashed on the castle hallway. Mosquito was unprepared, taken by surprised, and was knocked to the crumbling floor the moment the tremor stuck. Spirit was quick to jump on the bloodsucker, pinning him to the floor with the scythe blade at his throat. The cold metal pressed against the exposed neck threateningly, drawing the thinnest trickle of blood which rolled down Mosquito’s flesh and stained his snow white collar. Now Spirit was the one wearing a smirk, releasing a dry chuckle.

“Did you really think it would be that easy to defeat _us_ ?” he grinned, using Mosquito’s own words and throwing them right back at him. But before he could continue, he was cut off by a blow in the form of a head-butt to the face. Spirit choked in surprise, recoiling from the hit. As soon as the pressure of his body had lifted enough, Mosquito raised his legs and, mimicking the exact attack Marie had used earlier, kicked the redhead right in the chest. The Death Scythe was knocked back, hitting the ground with a painful _thud_ , and Mosquito leapt to his feet. The bloodsucker adjusted his collar casually as though nothing had happened, though he did glance with disdain at the small splash of crimson blood now marring the formerly perfect white.

“Now look what you did,” Mosquito tsked as he approached the downed weapon. Without another word, the butler raised his hand, as though he was preparing himself for a slap. However, the attack was much more than that. For when he brought his hand down, it _sliced_ at Spirit’s left arm, eliciting a scream of agony as his blades retracted and the limb went limp, crimson blood gushing from the large gash which had torn through his jacket and flesh, severing the muscles beneath. Spirit instantly clutched his injured limb with his one good arm as he ground his teeth, eyes clenched tightly shut in an attempt to force back the tears of pain which threatened to spill free. He didn’t see Mosquito raise his arm again, preparing for another strike…

It never came.

A grunt of pain caused Spirit to crack open one eye, to see Stein, his towering form intimidating in the dark, crouched down in front of him and shielding his friend from the blow. A large gash, not as deep as the one Spirit had suffered, but still an angry red vividly contrasting his pale complexion, ran the diagonal length of his chest. It looked as though it had reopened the stitches which ran across his torso, leading to a small amount of scarlet blood to dribble out of the wound. Spirit gasped sharply.

“Stein…”

“Get back into your weapon form and stay that way!” Franken snapped quickly, cutting off his friend. Spirit didn’t need to be told twice, and despite the pain tearing through his side, he reverted back into a scythe. The action went unobserved by the professors, whose olive glare was focused solely on the bloodsucker towering over them who was grinning down at them menacingly. Stein tried to reach for the weapon behind him, but winced as a sharp tremor of pain shuddered through his fresh wound, his body recoiling slightly. Once again, Mosquito raised his arm to take another shot at the two men.

In a blur of black and gold, Marie charged at the foe from behind. She let out a battle cry, showing all the rage and ferocity of a Norse goddess of war. The Death Scythe tackled Mosquito away from her friend and partner, sending them both flying a few feet before the both landed painfully, sprawled out on the destroyed floor. Mosquito groaned and sat up slowly, but Marie was quicker to recover and rolled over to him. As she approached, her right hand morphed into her iconic Mjolnir form, and she swung her arm back. The moment she was close to the man, she sent a sharp and direct upper-cut right-hook, socking directly in the face and sending him back down to the ground again. His hands shot up to clutch at his now profusely bleeding nose, and Marie couldn’t help but smile triumphantly whilst she pulled herself to her feet.

She didn’t hear him whisper “Darkness Discord” until it was too late. Until another eruption of darkness and deafening noise enveloped the entire space.

Rather than a stream like before, it was a solid wall of pure chaos. She found herself blinded again, the wall impenetrable. Like she was in the eye of a hurricane, screeches of white noise blurred past and around her, leaving her dazed and confused. She tried to turn, her head whipping round in a futile attempt to find some sort of opening or end to the tornado of darkness. Yet every stream which surrounded her was the same, trapping her in the core.

“ **_Marie_ **!” Stein’s voice barely made it over the din, yet she heard him crying out her name beyond the storm. The Norwegian turned again, trying to follow the sound of his voice. Instead, she was met by Mosquito looming over her.

She didn’t have time to react when, suddenly, his large hand was around her neck, choking the life out of her. A panicked, strangled noise left her whilst she clawed at his skin, trying to loosen his grip. Then her feet lifted off the ground, leaving her thrashing and kicking out at the air. Mosquito’s grin was sickly, toxic. He held her in the air for a few painful moments, watching as she floundered around desperately. Then, with the brute force of a monster, he threw the woman.

Marie didn’t even have the time to scream. She went flying, smashing through the swarm behind her and causing it to scatter, seconds before she made impact. The wall behind her did not soften the blow, and when she hit it face-first at full force, a sickening crunch resonated in the room.

The woman sunk to the floor, weak, and the room fell into silence. Time held its breath. Stein was petrified, having witnessed the entire scene. Horror was painted on his face. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe.

Marie released a soft, pained noise as she struggled to sit up. Everything hurt. Her face felt as though it had been tenderised. She coughed wetly, wincing as the action seemed to jolt through her face. The cartilage in her nose was broken, causing blood to run down her face.    

But it was only as she shifted upright that she felt something different… another injury. Something warm and wet slithered down her inner thigh. Blood. She shouldn’t have been bleeding there...

She froze, feeling her heart rate slow as a sinking feeling plummeted through her. Her trembling hand reached to touch her stomach. Marie’s one good eye was wide and damp, shaking in its socket. She felt… _empty_. Like a part of her had been torn out and discarded without sympathy. She could physically feel how a light had been snuffed out in an instant, the moment she had made contact with the wall. The moment the trauma wrecked through her body.

Marie hung her head, a sob trembling through her very core. She spoke with no colour in her tone. No warmth or brightness. Her voice was so quiet, everyone had to strain to hear it. But when the words met Stein’s ears, he felt his soul shatter under the force of their meaning.

“The baby…”

Stein’s senses went numb. The air stilled. He could feel the red madness prickling at his soul, seeping into his vision, but he ignored it. Marie’s voice was echoing in his head, her injured form scarred into his sight. And he felt hollow. Vulnerable. It was as though sorrow had crushed his heart into nothing more than dust, letting it scatter in the wind. Their baby… the life they were going to breathe into the world together… the life which _he_ was supposed to care for and protect… _Gone_. He felt as though he had physically been shattered.

Then, _rage_. Pure, boiling rage which scalded his very core. Any sense of reason was gone now, snuffed out by the fury which twisted his gut, fuelled on by the insanity which clung to his flesh. His skin was crawling, his veins ready to burst from the sheer adrenaline pounding through his blood.

As though sensing a shift in the atmosphere, Mosquito released a low growl and took a single step back, away from the meister. Just at that moment, Stein’s head turned abruptly and he stared at Mosquito with hollow eyes. Both were perfectly still for a moment. Then Stein stepped forward slowly, dragging Spirit in his weapon form behind him. The blade dragged against the stone floor, letting out a grating scratching noise which echoed around them all dangerously.

Mosquito’s eyes went wide, and he quickly threw his arms into the air, creating another wall of chaotic darkness to separate himself from the meister. Yet Stein kept moving closer, his pace increasing. The distance between them grew smaller.

 _“Stein!”_ Spirit’s metallic voice rang out loud and clearly, sounding desperate. _“Stein, get a hold of yourself! You’re not thinking straight!”_

The meister ignored his weapon, continuing with his advance. The ear-sickening screech of metal against rock seemed to drown out the din from Mosquito’s “Darkness Discord”. The weapon and meister drew even closer to the wall of bat-like creatures, so much so that Stein could feel the beat of their wings disrupting the air before his face.

_“Stein, don’t!”_

A battle cry was released, and Stein dived straight into Mosquito’s attack. Like forcing his way through a furious hurricane, he could feel every time one of the creatures sliced at his skin. There was pressure on his entire body, crushing him. He charged through furiously, however, ignoring each stab and slice at his flesh. Ignoring the building up force on his sternum, his lungs, how his glasses flew off, his eyesight suffering as a result.

Mosquito was suddenly in sight, at the very heart of the storm. Fear flashed across his face as the meister advanced, madness in his eyes. Before the bloodsucker had an opportunity to react, Stein had raised the scythe he held and with a flash, stabbed the blade straight through the enemy’s chest. Mosquito cried out, trying to stumble back away from his attacker, but his own attack had been a double-edged sword. He was surrounded, trapped, with a razor-sharp blade rooted inside him. Pain was shooting up and down his body and he choked, unable to voice it.

The hurricane surrounding them grew more frantic, whipping up a crushing storm around the meister and butler. Stein continued to ignore the knife-like wings which darted and danced around him, leaving ribbons of red across his flesh. He fought through the gale even as the pressure on his chest increased. Then, in a desperate attempt to escape, Mosquito tore his hand forward, likely meaning to grasp Stein's throat but getting his chest instead, and he put as much force into shoving Stein away as possible. But Stein only roared out as he heaved and struggled to find his breath, his voice becoming a sick rasp as he felt something inside shatter, compromise his breathing.

His lung, maybe. He didn't care. He just wanted to destroy, he didn't worry about the damage.

He choked on his own blood in his throat, yet he stood firm. Raising his left hand, Stein focused and gathered up all the power from his soul he could muster. Electricity seemed to spark off his fingertips, flashing in the dark. Then, he slammed his hand straight into Mosquito’s already injured chest, blasting the soul menace right through him. Stein continued, hitting him over and over and over again without stopping.

Mosquito’s scream was silenced by the roaring gale which surrounded them. The attack was ripping through him, tearing him apart from the inside out. Stein was relentless with his fury-induced barrage. In the chaos of it all, he was unaware of how Spirit began screaming in pain with Mosquito. How Spirit begged him to stop. In the chaos, Stein felt his own wavelength loop back, putting immense pressure on his heart.

He could feel it stutter, the beating going off. He welcomed the reminder that he had one at all.

The screams reached a crescendo as, with one final thrust of Stein sending his wavelength jolting and smashing through his victim, there seemed to be a blast of light. The darkness receded, the bats which made up the hurricane fluttering away and disintegrating as their master howled in agony. The light increased, blinding, with one last tremendous explosion.

Then, silence. The light faded, leaving no trace of the bloodsucker aside from a single red soul floating where he had just been standing. Once the bats had dissipated, Stein sunk to the floor, covered in injuries and bleeding profusely. Spirit fell out of his hands and landed on the floor with a clatter. When the scythe reverted back to his human form, he crumpled, spasms of pain rocketing through him as the aftershock of Stein’s soul menace rippling through him.

Stein failed to notice the condition of his weapon. He spluttered and coughed up blood, most of it dripping over his chin, wheezing pathetically. Marie’s frantic yells only just met his ears as she scrambled over to him, skidding to her knees and letting her hands hover over his chest, where there seemed to be a depression.

Marie catalogued his injuries: lacerations too numerous to count and internal bleeding judging from how the blood dribbled from his mouth. Her heart almost stopped. His chest and the wheezing. His breastbone.

Did he puncture his lung? Was his heart compromised? His hands trembled as he tried to assess his own damage, but he only coughed miserably at the movement and Marie grasped both of his hands in her own before wrapping her arms around his injured form as though to protect him. Her wavelength flared up, trying to heal him, but she was too weak from the fight. She seemed to tremble from panic at the sight of the two men.

“Spirit,” she called, watching as the redhead winced and pulled himself to his feet. He seemed to be shaking profusely, everything sore. “Spirit, Stein’s hurt!”

The redhead almost snapped back a snide remark, that he was also injured, in pain, but he bit back he words when he wobbled on his feet and saw the state of his meister. There was blood everywhere, slowly dripping onto the stone floors below him. Spirit swallowed, his heartbeat thundering in his ears before he reached up to his earpiece with his good hand, waiting for the connection to go through. There was a crackling noise down the other end, then a distinct click. He sucked in a breath a spoke out, trying to keep his voice as steady as he could.

“Azusa, it’s me. 

 _“Spirit?”_ The crossbow’s voice was faint through the static, but he could still hear the ridiculously blunt tone when she spoke. _“What is it?”_

“There’s been a problem,” he began. The redhead couldn’t help but flinch at how feeble he must have sounded to the woman. Inhaling sharply, Spirit hardened his eyes and focused on just getting the information out as quickly as possible. “We got into a fight with Mosquito. Stein’s hurt…bad internal damage… The kids aren’t with us. We had to split, so they went with Eruka and Free to try and complete the mission.”

Down the other end of the line, he heard Azusa mutter lowly. _“Fuck.”_ Then, she cleared her throat, levelling out her voice. _“And what about you and Marie? Are you two okay?”_

“Stein accidentally blasted me with his soul menace, which wasn’t exactly pleasant. Mosquito messed up my arm pretty badly too,” Spirit grimaced at the bloodied, limp limb hanging from his side, now rendered totally useless. “And Marie… Marie…”

He paused and swallowed, casting a wary glance at his friend. She was focusing all her energy on trying to help Stein get back to his feet, yet she winced as she bent forward, a hand instinctively reaching and clutching her stomach. Spirit sucked in a sharp breath and lowered his voice, speaking in no more than a whisper. “She lost the baby, ‘Zu.”

Time was ticking by painfully slowly. It felt as though a good five minutes of silence passed before Azusa spoke again, though Spirit knew it could have only been a few seconds. Her voice cracked, mimicking the eerie static that hummed in the background of the call.

 _“Spirit, you three need to get out of there as quickly as possible. Tabatha and Taruho are already working on trying to open up the portal for you, and Blair can deal with your injuries when you get back. You need to be fast. I order you to retreat.”_ There was no room for negotiations when she spoke. Spirit could practically see her glasses glinting at him. Still, he frowned, ready to protest.

“But what about--”

 _“I’ll contact Sid now and he’ll retrieve the children,”_ Azusa cut him off, knowing full well what he had been about to say. _“You just need to focus on coming back home. We’ll deal with the rest.”_ When the man failed to answer, she sighed heavily. _“Good luck.”_ Then, the line went dead.

Spirit dropped his hand, shoving the small device into his jacket pocket. After taking in a deep breath, he turned and approached the now-standing Marie. Stein was barely keeping himself upright, his large body all but propped upright by the female weapon. Spirit felt something drop inside of him at the sight.

“We need to go, Marie.”


	6. Chapter 6

The situation became complicated after a call to Azusa. Just like Professor Stein had ordered them, Spartoi had escaped and ran off into Baba Yaga Castle to complete the mission. After wandering aimlessly for what felt like far too long, they decided to contact Azusa and ask for help with navigating the winding corridors (something Free had been doing an awful job at prior to the students reaching that decision). So Anya contacted the Death Scythe in question with the headpiece she was wearing. However, it didn’t last long, and the blonde quickly cut off the call with a frown.

“Miss Azusa said we need to retreat.”

The rest of Spartoi looked stunned by Anya’s words. In a flash, both Liz and Patty’s faces appeared reflected in their weapon forms, frowning severely.

 _“What? No way!”_ Patty yelled, her metallic voice grating and causing poor Kilik to wince at the sound. If he hadn’t been holding both the weapons, it probably wouldn’t have felt so abusive on his ears. Unfortunately, he wasn’t given a reprieve from the angry snapping since Liz spoke just as loudly. _“Not without Kid!”_

 _“So you’re saying we should disobey orders?”_ Soul questioned dryly, the reflection of his image in his weapon causing the remaining weapons to follow his example and appear, watching the exchange intently. Even the chubby little faces of the Pot twins were visible, but they seemed far more confused than everyone else.

The reply came in the form of both Thompson sisters shouting in unison. _“Yes!”_

At that point, the focus of the students snapped over to the witch and the wolfman. Eruka stared back at them, trying not to let their determined eyes change her mind. After all, she was under strict instructions from the DWMA to keep this group safe. If Azusa had ordered a retreat…

But those kids had also been desperate to get their friend back for two years. And apparently, he wouldn’t be around much longer. If they didn’t finish this mission now, they would probably never see him again. Could she really do that to them as well, after all they’d been through?

Eruka let out a heavy sigh, muttering under her breath. “Annoying kids…” Her attention then turned to the pigtailed meister, and she spoke to her with force in her tone. “Maka, use your Soul Perception. If we’re going to find him, we need to do it quickly.”

The girl in question nodded sharply in response, and quickly closed her eyes. The group stood for a moment, watching impatiently as she scrunched up her face tightly, as though she was trying to force her way through a barrier. After a few seconds though, her eyes opened slowly and she released a frustrated groan.

“I’m sorry… I can’t. The madness here… it’s too strong,” Maka explained, her shoulder slumping dejectedly. “It’s blocking any other souls I try to locate. I can barely make out all your souls through this… this _fog_ … let alone Kid’s.”

There was an uncomfortable quiet for a moment, until the spear in Anya’s hands piped up. _“The Moral Manipulation Machine…”_

“Harvar?” his meister questioned, raising an eyebrow as she turned her head to face his reflection. The image gave a firm nod, expression set in a frown.

 _“Remember what Miss Azusa said? It’s being used to amplify and project Asura’s madness throughout the castle and nearby vicinity,”_ the spear explained. The rest of Spartoi glanced at each other, giving small nods when they reached an understanding about what Harvar was implying. _“We need to turn it off in order for Maka to locate Kid’s soul.”_

“But who knows how long that will take?” Eruka asked, crossing her arms over her chest. She raised her eyebrows to the sky, shooting Harvar a rather frustrated look. “Azusa will probably send someone in here to find you kids when she realises you went against her instructions. We may not have time to shutdown the machine _and_ retrieve Lord Death.”

Kim was quick to answer that pessimistic statement with a snap of her fingers and a spark in her turquoise eyes. “Then we’ll split up. We’ll shut it down,” she motioned to herself, Anya, and Kilik, then directed her focus to Maka and Black☆Star. “And you guys try to find Kid in the meantime.”

There was a mutual nod of agreement shared between the members of Spartoi, and the faintest traces of determined smiles returned to their faces. The moment was fleeting, however, and once more their expressions hardened. Kilik turned to Free and Eruka again.

“Do either of you know where the machine is?”

The pair in question glanced at each other, exchanging the briefest look, before Free shrugged. “No. But I know a good place to start looking,” he grinned toothily and took a step forward, ready to depart. “Follow me.”

The Beta team of Spartoi didn’t need to be told twice, and after offering a wave to Maka, Eruka, Black☆Star, and their respective weapons, they turned on their heels and followed after the wolfman.

 _“Good luck,”_ Tsubaki’s voice rang out to the departing group, stopping Kilik in his tracks for a moment. He stood there, as though contemplating, before releasing his hold on the two guns in his hands and throwing them behind him. The Thompsons instantly reverted back to their human form, exchanging confused looks.

Liz cleared her throat as she watched the young man slip his gauntlets onto his hands instead, his expression neutral. “Kilik?”

When he turned and offered her the warmest smile she had seen all day, she felt her heart skip a beat. He winked at her, nodding his head.

“Go bring your meister back, Sharpshooter.”

And with that, he turned again and ran off after the rest of his team. Liz watched his retreating form, a smile pulling at the edge of her lips. Her eyes felt wet, but she held herself together. Kilik was a good guy – he knew how much Kid meant to her and her sister. He wasn’t going to prevent them from being the first to hug him the moment they found him.

Without another word, she transformed once again, this time falling into the waiting palm of her sister. Once Patty had a hold of her, the younger laughed excitedly and ran back over to Black☆Star and Maka, giving the boy a high-five.

The group settled down again, and Black☆Star cracked his knuckles with a smirk.

“Now, if I was an evil Kishin, where would I hide a Grim Reaper…?”

* * *

 

They decided that the most logical place to start looking would be the dungeons of Baba Yaga. So Eruka led the small portion of Spartoi down into the furthest depths of the castle, deep underground. It grew colder and more claustrophobic with each step they took. The further they descended, the darker it got.

Unlike the tunnels which ran under Death City, the lighting here was dim and flickering. A constant wind seemed to howl around them, whistling through the crumbling brickwork and seeping into their bones to leave a permanent shudder deeply embedded there. Mold and moss ran down the walls, hanging there limply, causing a dank smell to fill the air.

 _“This place is creepy,”_ Liz muttered, earning an eye-roll from Eruka. The witch let out a snort as she moved, her eyes focused ahead.

“Dungeons aren’t exactly meant to be five-star luxury.” Her tone was heavy with cynicism, eliciting a smirk from Maka.

The rest of the journey went by in uncomfortable silence, the only sound coming from the echoes of their heavy footsteps bouncing off the rounded tunnel walls and the wailing wind. Finally, they reached the end of their journey, marked by a large wooden door towering before them.

“Here we are,” Eruka hissed, reaching out a hand to grab the silver door ring. Then, with one sharp tug, she pulled it. The door opened with a loud and agonising creak.

There was a pause. Everyone waited for a moment, as though unsure about what to do. It was Maka who eventually stepped forward first, poking her head into the large room and peering around. The lighting was just as poor inside here, but at least it illuminated enough for her to see the place. Both sides of the large, hollow space was lined with individual cells – at least twenty along each wall. The bars were rusted, clearly old, and each little prison was entirely empty except for the thick layers of dust which covered the floors and prominent cobwebs filling the corners. All in all, it looked as though nobody had been inside in years.

“It doesn’t look like he’s in here,” Maka muttered to herself as she continued to examine the inside of the cell closest to her. Despite her comment, the others stepped inside and began to look around themselves. Black☆Star shrugged and scratched the back of his head.

“I guess that would have been far too easy--”

“Maka? Black☆Star?”

Everyone froze. The voice rang in their heads for a moment, echoing around them. It took a few seconds for them to process what they had heard. When it did sink in, the group let out a collective gasp and looked at each other quickly, as though making sure they were all hearing the same thing.

“Is that you? A-are you really here?”

They _all_ recognised that voice.

Patty released a gasp of delight and dropped Liz (despite her protests) before dashing off, following the sound of _Kid’s voice_. Black☆Star was quick to follow, unable to bite back the obnoxious grin which had taken over his face as he yelled out “We’re coming, Kid!”. The two were out of sight in the blink of an eye, running further into the large room. Liz was quick to transform and stand and, after she and Maka exchanged smiles, the two were about to follow after them.

They were stopped by Eruka grabbing Maka’s wrist and placing a hand on Liz’s shoulder. The girls blinked in surprise then turned their heads to face the witch. Her eyes were hard as steel, unnerving in the gloom. After shaking her head,  quickly snapped her attention to focus in on Maka.

“Soul Perception,” Eruka ordered. “ _Now_!”

Maka couldn’t help but flinch at the tone, but she gave a small nod and focused as much as she good. Through the wavelength which fogged up the air, she could barely make out the souls of all her friends. Soul, Liz, Eruka, Black☆Star, Tsubaki, Patty…

But Kid?

There was no soul there. Only emptiness.

She choked on a gasp as her eyes snapped open, blood running arctic cold through her veins. Liz was quick to catch on, her cerulean eyes widening in panic. Maka turned and began to sprint in the direction of where the others had headed, Liz and Eruka hot on her heels.

“Guys, don’t listen!” Maka cried out, her voice carried by the emptiness of the prison. “It’s just a hallucination!” An _auditory_ hallucination. She couldn’t believe how deeply rooted the madness wavelength must have been in their minds. It sent a shiver down her spine, to think they had been fooled so easily.

The sound of angry yells hit their ears, followed by a large clanging noise. Maka’s eyes widened and she charged, barely hearing Soul panickedly ask her what was going on.

The sight of Patty, Black☆Star, and Tsubaki trapped in one of the cells was more of a relief to Maka than anything. At least, she thought, they hadn’t been harmed. The pigtailed girl was about to approach when Tsubaki leaned forward, hands wrapped around the rusted bars, as she screamed “Look out!”

And then the world went sideways as Maka fell, the shadow weapon’s warning meeting her ears just a little bit too late. Too late for her to avoid the forceful shove that came directly from behind when a large man stepped out of the shadows. So Maka plummeted, dropping her scythe as her face hit the ground with a pained hiss. Before she could even attempt to stand or raise her grazed head, a sudden pressure applied itself to her back, effectively pinning her to the floor. The ash blonde let out a grunt and turned her head, glaring emerald daggers up at the man above her. He only let out a gruff chortle in response to her glower.

“You really should watch where you’re goin’, brat.”

Giriko stood there with the most sickening sneer she had seen, a malicious glint in his beady eyes as he observed her. He pressed down a little more with his food, sandwiching the meister between the cold floor and his boot. His grin only widened at the pained noise she made.

“ ** _Maka_**!”

And then Soul, who by now had reverted back to his human form, charged at Giriko with one arm transformed into his scythe blade, raised and ready to attack. The chainsaw barely reacted to the battle cry, giving a lazy yawn as he tilted to one side to avoid the blade easily. In the blink of an eye, he grabbed Soul by the throat, shoving him back and pinning him against the wall. The boy had stars in his eyes after his head was slammed against the brickwork, leaving him choking and dazed.

Liz’s attempted attack didn’t go much better either. Although she did manage to make one shot with her hand transformed, it only just grazed the man’s shoulder. By the time she was about to fire again, he had reached out and grabbed a fistful of Elizabeth’s hair, pulling on it ferociously. The girl couldn’t stop the instinctive cry which escaped her as she stumbled and fell. Giriko’s grip remained there, however, despite how Patty yelled at him to let her sister go.

With a horribly victorious smirk painting his features, the man observed the three he had easily restrained, then cast a glance at the other three locked in the cell. He snorted, then erupted into a bout of obnoxious laughter.

“Is that it? _Jeez_! I was expecting much more of a fight from the DWMA.”

“Let them go, you bastard!”

The shout earnt the reaction of a single eyebrow being raised. Giriko glanced back over to the prison, where Black☆Star stood, holding Patty in her weapon form, pointing her through the bars and aiming straight at Giriko’s head. Next to the ninja stood Tsubaki, her hair now a chain scythe which she held in her hands. Her glare was cold enough to freeze over the desert of Nevada. Yet despite the obvious threat, Giriko only yawned.  

“I don’t think so. Now put the gun down,” drawled the chainsaw lazily. When Black☆Star failed to do as he had been told, Giriko grinned maliciously and pressed his foot down a little harder on Maka’s back. The meister winced, and Black☆Star’s eyes widened at the sight. “One false move and I can easily crush this little bitch’s spine.”

There was a brief hesitation, a flicker of fear across Black☆Star’s face. After a heartbeat, he dropped the gun. His eyes remained narrowed in a venomous glare, though Giriko stayed unfazed.

“Hey!”

Giriko rolled his eyes at that shout, muttering under his breath, “Not again…” Only this time, when he turned his head, it was Eruka Frog who was glaring at him, eyes aflame in the gloom. Maka could sense something different about the witch’s soul at that moment. Eruka had removed her Soul Protect, and now she seemed to be brimming with magic, ready to use it.

Eruka smirked at Giriko and raised a hand, ready to snap her fingers to summon a spell unknown by the rest of the group--

Until she froze the moment she felt a hand on her shoulder and another tighten around her wrist, grabbing her from behind. The next moment, she was spun around and found herself staring straight into a pair of chilling, electric blue eyes.

“None of that, now,” Justin Law smiled, before lifting his gaze over Eruka’s head and nodding to Giriko. “Looks like I caught a pest too.”

Giriko’s grumble of “Yeah, after I did all the work,” was barely heard as, simultaneously, every single member of Spartoi felt their stomachs drop in unison, their hearts pounding in their ears. It would have been an understatement to say that this was bad. _Really_ bad.

* * *

Her shirt was moist with her sweat and his fresh blood, as it seeped into the black cotton leaving a stain unseen, but felt. He was heavy. Oh Death, he was _so_ heavy. Even Marie’s powerful muscles were trembling as she tried to support his large figure. The further down the dark corridors they descended, the heavier Stein felt. Through his blurred vision, he could see that Marie was frantically blinking back tears from her one good eye. She must have been trying to _ignore_ how she could feel Stein’s soul wavelength slowly dimming, fading. With each scarlet drop of blood which splattered to the floor, another ounce of his life drained out of him.

His entire being was fully supported by the much smaller woman; had it not been for her practically dragging him, there would have been no way for him to possibly stand on his own two feet. With each step forward, each encouraging tug from his weapon partner, Stein grunted or exhaled a waning breath. He was so tired. Keeping his eyes open was a struggle. Vision blurred, the world was slowly draining of its colour and transitioning into a monochrome scene.

“Please hang on, Franken. We’re almost there,” Marie spoke softly. The words almost went unheard, only just able to force themselves through the grey deafness in his ears. Yet Stein could still distinguish that tremble in her voice, matching how her body was shaking. She was injured. Their baby was gone. She should have been taking care of herself. Yet there she was, stubbornly choosing to drag him along despite how her body protested and sorrow smothered down on her. How did he ever end up with a woman like her? His fading thoughts were unable to find an answer. She was far too good for a man like him. And if this was the end… well… spending his last moments with her was no punishment.

He wanted to hold onto her and comfort her silently, the way he had when BJ was murdered. He wanted to tease her again, to say her name again. Death, he wished he could have had a few more days with her. But he knew, as his wavelength began to flicker and die out, that he would never be able to have that luxury again.

When his knees finally gave out under him, Marie released a high-pitched cry and tried to yank him back up. It was futile, and they both knew it. Gravity had already done its work, dragging his body down like an anchor. He crumpled.

“Get up, Stein!” Marie ordered as she frantically continued trying to heave him up to his feet once more. Yet he seemed to stiffen, taking in shallow, ragged breaths. It was too much effort. He was too tired. His head lolled to one side, as though his neck was unable to support the weight of it.

The world around him began to blur, as though he was submerged underwater. Spirit’s terrified cursing sounded muffled, barely reaching his ears. And Marie… she was becoming a blurry figure, her golden hair running into her pale skin as though she was no more than an abstract portrait. Her beautiful, colourful self seemed to dim and become more dull. Grey, just like everything else around him. He could hardly see her wide-eyed expression. Her mouth was opening and closing rapidly, yet no sound seemed to come out.

Releasing another heavy breath, Stein blinked his weary eyes and reached upwards towards the blurred figure. His hand, stained red by his own blood, pressed against her cheek in an attempted gesture of comfort. Neither seemed to notice how the crimson was left on her hair and skin as well, tarnishing her perfection.

“Marie…” he wheezed, his voice scratching his throat as he struggled to release it. Stein felt his body shift again as Marie attempted to sit him up, resting his head on her lap.

“No, Stein! We’re almost there--!” She was frantic, desperate. Her head kept whipping around, single eye searching the space around them. When it landed on Spirit, she silently pleaded with her gaze for him to join them. Hesitantly, the redhead approached and with his one good arm, tried to help Marie get her partner to stand. Stein shrugged the other man off, otherwise ignoring him.

“Marie, listen to me.”

“Stop trying to talk and just get up!”

Internally, the professor winced at how her voice had risen an octave. He didn’t want to see her in pain, like this. His dwindling soul perception noted the lack of life within her womb, and his insides twisted into a knot.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbled, shame weighing his words down heavily. Marie sucked in a breath, unable to stop the tears which came tumbling down from her one good eye. Though he could barely hear her, Stein could identify how her words tumbled out of her in a hysterical mess of emotion.

“It wasn't your fault! It wasn't. _None of it_. You… you can make it up to me. It isn’t that bad anyway. I-I’m fine and you’ll be fine… It’ll all be alright… We can… we can try again so just… just... just _hang on_. Hang on until we go home! You just have to hold on to me, okay?”

“I love you.”

The air rushed out of her faster than the blink of an eye. She sat there, wordless. Her heart stopped. Every part of her body seemed to freeze, stuck in paralysis. Stein had never… he never once told her that he loved her. He was no good at expressing his feelings in that sort of way. It just was not _him_ to say those three words: I love you. But he never needed to.

Marie _knew_. Death, she knew and she didn’t _need_ him to say it. She knew from every look he gave her, from every crooked grin they exchanged. She knew from when he touched her, how he would wrap himself around her protectively and hold onto her hand as though he would never let go. She knew from how he whispered her name. She heard “I love you” in “Are you alright?”. She heard it in “You’re so stubborn.” She heard it in “Stay with me.”

He never needed to say it. And hearing it felt bitterly final now. Franken Stein was slipping through her fingers and she was completely helpless, unable to do anything to prevent it.

Her voice broke. “Stein… no…”

She watched, vision blurred through her tears, as Stein tried to speak once more. But his words were becoming mumbled and unclear, as though it was a physical struggle from him to speak. The pool of blood surrounding them grew bigger and bigger, stretching out like a scarlet expanse, mocking her. Tearing her partner away from her.

“I love you, Marie.”

“Stop saying that! We’re going to get you out of here!”

Spirit stood there, silent, unmoving, not knowing what to do. He could only watch as Marie clung on desperately to Stein’s bloodied shirt, sobbing her eye out as she tried to convince him to stand and keep moving. The scythe felt hollow as he saw Stein’s breath become more shallow. Less frequent.

“Thank you… for everything.”

And with one last exhale of breath, his body went limp.

Silence.

Her body trembled, every nerve on fire. Marie parted her lips, as though trying to form words, yet no sound came out aside from a few quivering, desperate sobs. Her knuckles were white from how tightly she clutched onto Stein’s shirt and tried to shake him awake. Yet she received no response.

He was gone. It was over. There was nothing she could do to bring him back. Her world shattered around her silently, drowned out by the chaos of their reality. It would go unnoticed by many. He was just another name now, another casualty.

But to her, he was far more than just that. He was her other half, her friend and companion. Her partner. They should have been together. They should have had more time than they got. Already, she felt as though she was missing a part of herself.  

She reached out for his soul carefully, wrapping her arms around it and pulling it to her chest. Spirit watched her silently as she sat there, clinging onto what remained of the man she loved desperately, unable to let it go.

He was still so warm. She wanted to resonate with him, to feel him again. And when she tried, there was nothing. He was gone.

Marie’s scream was loud enough to fill the entire castle.

* * *

The atmosphere was painfully tense in that moment, as Justin Law leered down at the frog witch. She was glaring back at him, her eyes trying to hold her own against his electric stare. The teens all held their breath, feeling their heart rates slow in unison.

Eventually, Justin cracked a serene smile at the woman, yet it didn’t quite reach the chaos which swirled behind his irises. He was unnerving. Intimidating. Maka felt herself shudder if she looked at him for too long. She wasn’t sure how Eruka had been able to hold her venomous scowl back at him for so long.

“Ah, so~” Justin sang out loudly, his booming voice shattering the silence. “This is the treacherous little frog who’s been helping the DWMA out, hm?” His words were hissed, as though they were poison on the tongue. Those vivid blue eyes narrowed slightly, the smile never dropping, but the toxicity clearly visible behind the glare. Yet Eruka continued to glare back at him with just as much loathing, more if anything, still standing strong. The taller boy leaned down, his face right up close to hers so that his warm breath tickled her skin, giving her no room to flinch.

“How dare you betray our Lord Asura?” The smile dropped with those words, his tone cold and lacking the amused air it had beforehand. Suddenly, he was much more sombre, far more menacing.

“ _And_ Lady Arachne!” Giriko quickly piped up, shooting a scowl in Justin’s direction. The young priest in question responded with a teasing grin, otherwise ignoring the disdain being aimed at him from both his “ally” and the other people in the room. Eruka, however, still kept her glare focused in on Justin. When she finally spoke, the words were spat out with revulsion.

“Your Lord and Lady are nothing more than fucked up piles of shit.”

The room trembled in the silence that followed. Tsubaki and Patty could only stare at Eruka, agape, stunned that the relatively fearful witch had the backbone to speak out in such a way. Justin’s face remained a cold mask of indifference, yet some burning ire seemed to swell behind his eyes. Maka, sensing the atmosphere grow cold as his soul flickered, felt a surge of panic roll through her.

“Eruka!” she cried out as she tried to squirm free from Giriko’s hold. The pressure on her back had her practically glued to the floor, however, leaving her with barely enough wiggle room to even raise her head. Yet still she tried, attempting desperately to grab the witch’s attention. “Eruka, stop!”

But Eruka didn’t take her advice. She didn’t stop. Her voice grew louder, more bitter. So much more _angry._ “This world is sick, and it’s all your fault.” All of the thoughts she had been keeping bottled up for the past two years were suddenly opened and set free upon Justin, as though lashing out at him would solve them. “Don’t try to convince me that this madness is a good thing. I know it’s not, so I _will_ betray your Lord to fix it.”

Soul squirmed from where he was pressed up against the wall, rasping out a desperate command of “Don’t provoke him!”

“I will fight and do everything I can to the best of my ability to fix this shitty mess which your son of a bitch God created,” There was an untamed fire in her eyes which nobody had ever seen spark to life in her before. It felt so foreign, so different from the Eruka Frog they all knew. “And so help me Mabaa, I will die trying if I have to!”

The atmosphere stilled, as though every soul that once walked the Earth had taken a collective gasp. Justin’s blaring music thrummed loudly, matching the rhythm of everyone’s palpitating hearts. And yet, even in the tension, Justin’s smile had yet to waver.

“Fine, then. You seem eager to go first,” he finally spoke, smoothly, coldly. He leaned forward again, forcing the woman to shrink back to avoid their faces from touching. “I personally have no qualms about which order I do this in. It has to start with _somebody_ ,after all.”

A murmur rose up from the cell as Tsubaki and Patty exchanged wary glances. A nervous confusion raised itself. Liz had stiffened, a look of sheer terror creeping its way onto her face. Realisation began to draw on everyone…

There was a flash, blinding in its severity. Bright enough to burn to the very back of one's eyes. The students had to look away, unable to focus on the light. By the time it cleared, the entire scene had changed entirely 

The faintest spark of fear glimmered in Eruka’s eyes when she found herself trapped, her neck caught in a lunette. But it was only brief, and her face remained set and firm. The fire in her gut returned like a blazing inferno, and she kept herself composed despite how Justin, now in his guillotine form, towered above her, the sharp blade glimmering eerily in the gloom.

Then, the panic in the room swelled up once more. Black☆Star began shouting out profanities and rattling the bars of his cage like a wild animal, fury brimming over. A series of screams of “Eruka!” erupted from the children in a chaotic symphony of fear. And the students in Giriko’s hold tried to struggle free, desperately, as though they could reach Eruka and stop what was about to happen. The chainsaw smirked at the sight.

“You know what the penalty for treason is, right?” he leered, which only increased the panic of the meisters and weapons.

The witch raised her head, her eyes focusing on the members of Spartoi, taking in each one of their expressions. The last one she saw was the pigtailed girl, fighting so hard to reach her. Eruka found that despite the entire situation, she couldn’t help appreciating it, how these children who barely knew her were so… sad for her. How they wanted to help her. But she knew it was fruitless.

As if trying to provide some last attempt at a vague form of comfort, Eruka swallowed back her anger and offered Maka a small, reassuring smile.

And then the blade plummeted.


	7. Chapter 7

It had been the most torturous day of his miserable life. There were no injuries inflicted, no wounds reopened, no Kishin mocking him with whispered poison in his ear. He had been left completely alone, locked away in the dark. Sitting there. Waiting.

Usually, he “preferred” (if any situation could really be considered preferable) the days when he was alone: it granted him a reprieve from those mocking eyes looking down upon him, those revolting laughs of torment, and the agony which always accompanied it all. They made him feel weak. They made him feel fragile and worthless. He was a failure, they always told him.

They were right.

Yet today, nothing had happened. Nobody had ‘paid him a visit’. Not that traitor Justin with his mad preachings to the Kishin with every blow that rained down upon him. Not Mosquito with his inhuman desire just to draw blood. Not his “brother”, Asura, to inflict injuries on his mind with toxic words. No one. Yet Kid was very much aware of the fact it had been done on purpose. For he also knew that they knew leaving him today would inflict enough pain without having to raise a single finger.

Kid could sense every single soul inside Baba Yaga. He breathed in and felt their unique wavelengths fill his lungs. He recognised them. The wavelengths of his _friends_. But all he could do was sit there, knowing they were so close yet so far at the same time. He could feel their souls flicker with pain as they battled on, and he was helpless to do anything to save them. He couldn't warn them that they were going the wrong way, walking into a trap. He couldn't hold them back and prevent them from charging head first into fights he knew they just would not win.

When he felt a familiar soul disappear from the world and off his sensory spectrum, fading away into the afterlife, Kid wanted to scream in mourning. He was supposed to guide souls on to a better place once they had passed. But he had failed his duties as a Grim Reaper. He couldn't save _anyone_. He couldn't even provide comfort in their last moments, as he was supposed to.

It was all slowly killing him.

“Disgusting…” the young God muttered to himself, eyes stinging as they watered. He attempted to flex his wrists, giving a few testing tugs at the chains which held him down. Yet they held fast, as they had for the past two years. He struggled more frantically, making an attempt to stand in vain. But he quickly stopped with a hiss of pain when the dull throbbing returned at the movement. The boy dropped his head in shame, breathing in deeply through his nose to try and steady his trembling. A few droplets of salty tears fell into his lap. “I’m disgusting.”

_“Yes, you are.”_

Kid felt his breath hitch at the sound of that hauntingly familiar voice. When he raised his head, blinking into the darkness, the shadows around him seemed to twist and writhe, forming a shape. A figure. In the suffocating blackness, the pure white mask before him seemed to burn brighter than the sun. It was a stark contrast of blinding white to the pure black surrounding them. Those hollow, empty eye sockets drilled right into Kid, making him cringe away, ashamed.

 _“I never would have let myself be defeated so easily,”_ his father’s usually chipper voice sounded cold now. Full of contempt. Kid tried to lower his gaze away, yet the looming figure of the former Lord Death seemed to invade his vision no matter where he looked. The young reaper jerked as a sob escaped him involuntarily, one which he had tried to bite back.

“But you’re dead, father,” came the child’s response, sounding feeble as he continued to wallow in his own misery. “You _were_ defeated.”

The shadows shifted again, hissing and slithering together like snakes. They twisted around the form of the deceased Death, making him grow larger and more jagged. More menacing. Kid screwed his eyes tightly shut in an attempt to rid himself of the vision. It was just a hallucination brought on by the concentration of madness in this castle, he tried to remind himself. He’d encountered them many times before. His father wasn’t in the tomb with him. Kid was simply talking to thin air. Yet the Grim Reaper’s voice continued to echo in his ears, and Kid was unable to hide away from it.

 _“I died fighting for the world! I died protecting **you** , because I thought you would be able to continue my legacy!”_ Each word smouldered with icy fire, seeping into the boy and burning away at his very core. The ivory face of the mask remained as expressionless as ever, yet the disgrace was evident from the ways those hollow eyes continued to bore right through Kid. _“How wrong I was. You can’t even protect your friends. They’re out there, dying for you, and you aren’t even able to get out of those chains. How were you ever going to truly become a God for the humans to follow?”_

Clutching tightly onto the armrests of the throne, Kid’s knuckles were white. His shame was briefly washed away by anger.

“You shouldn’t have abandoned me, then!” he snapped at the image of his father, leaning forward as far as he could before the chain links tightened and held him in place. Yet from his body language, he looked ready to tear forward and attack the mirage before him. If he could. “You should never have left me alone if I was going to be such a disappointment!”

The illusion stared back, unanswering, his silence crushing with its severity. All Kid could do was stare back, eyes narrowed yet _begging_ for some form of a response. Honestly, he didn’t know what he wanted to hear. It just had to be something. The quiet was stifling, however, and failed to bring what he needed. Emotions sparked inside him once again and his voice grew louder, becoming a desperate scream.

“Father, why?!” He tried to lunge forward again, causing the chains above his head to clatter and chime against each other noisily. Heat seared through every wound with each unsympathetic tug and pull at his body. But the constant, painful throbbing only seemed to spark a rush of new found adrenaline. “Why have you forsaken me?!” Kid screeched at the image of Lord Death once more, throat raw and scorched from the sudden rush of his voice scraping his oesophagus.

Again, a wall of silence muted his shouts and left them falling numb, crumbling away into the atmosphere without any response. The way the mirage stood there, unmoving, it seemed hauntingly serene. As though it found some odd peace with the display from the young boy.

“Answer me, father!”

When no answer came for the final time, Kid crumpled under the severe pressure, the chains relaxing and going slack when he limply slumped backwards. His head dipped forward, stinging eyes now burning from the tears which pricked at his vision, trying to force their escape. There was no point trying to fight back his emotions any more. His pride had been ruined long ago. There was no salvaging it now.

“Why…?” he whispered dejectedly. His shoulders was shuddering, accompanied by pitiful sobs. The Grim Reaper stood, unmoving. Those empty eyes were staring right into his soul; Kid could feel it. Judging him. Criticising him. There was no pity in the lifeless gaze, however.

 _“Look at you. You’re nothing more than a child. You do not deserve the title bestowed upon you,”_ Lord Death spoke finally, his words heavy with scorn. They slid between Kid’s ribs like the tip of a knife, twisting to deepen the wound they inflicted. Kid flinched involuntarily yet kept his head bowed in humiliation, the full ignominy of failing his father in such a glorious way weighing down his body. _“You’re weak, pathetic, disgusting. I am ashamed to see you like this. To see what you have become. You have failed me.”_

A part of Kid knew that, had his father been alive, he would never had said those things. The faintest voice in the back of his mind was trying to reassure him that this was nothing more than paranoia; the Kishin’s wavelength consuming him and messing with his mind. But that comforting voice was drowned out by guilt and the smothering revulsion he felt towards himself. He never was worthy of becoming a Grim Reaper, he told himself. Never was worthy of ever taking his father’s place.

_“You’re no son of mine.”_

A bitter, icy breeze seemed to rustle around the boy as his sobs began to simmer out, slowly. A shudder ran down his spine, clawing at each individual vertebra. The room seemed to darken even more so there was nothing but an ebony abyss stretching out around him, swallowing up the ivory mask of the Grim Reaper who had been standing before him.

When Kid raised his head, staring out into the emptiness with tired eyes, he saw the image of his father had gone. He was alone once more.

* * *

 

It was a miracle with Free’s appalling sense of direction that the other group of Spartoi were able to find the main surveillance room of Baba Yaga Castle. Really, it only came down to the fact that Free did have a vague sense of where they were going. Apparently he was put on duty to monitor the security cameras around the place whilst he was working undercover, so he had visited this particular room frequently.

The group managed to get inside easily as well. It must have been pure luck that no guards were on duty inside the room. That, or Arachne had pulled all of her forces into fighting the battle outside of the castle. There was nobody to prevent the DWMA students and their guide from entering the place.

The room itself was buzzing with electricity and power. One large wall was lined from ceiling to floor with computer screens, each one showing footage of different parts of the castle. A desk of multicoloured buttons and switches sat before it, clearly linked to the system so the viewer could change perspective of the surveillance footage… or alert the castle that there were intruders.

Kilik let out a loud whistle as he observed the desk, trying to take in all the different functions he could work out. “For something that looks so old, this castle is pretty high tech!” He was quickly interrupted by Kim reaching forward and pointing at one of the screens just to his left.

“Look, there it is!”

“That’s the Moral Manipulation Machine?” Anya asked, scrunching up her nose at the sight of the thing the witch was pointing at. Kim gave her a sharp nod, muttering under her breath about how she’d recognise it anywhere.

Before anyone could speak again, the gauntlets which hung from Kilik’s shoulders were enveloped by bright light. Once it receded, Thunder and Fire were scrambling up onto the large control desk, quickly waddling away from their meister’s hands trying to grab at them. The twins approached the screens silently, then once they were closest to the one displaying the machine in focus, Fire reached out a small hand and pointed at something just to the side of the central object.

There was a weird shimmering effect displayed on the screen, one which wasn’t apparent on any of the other monitors showing different parts of the castle. It was as though the air surrounding the Moral Manipulation Machine was alive and breathing. Kilik raised an eyebrow at the sight and leaned it to get a closer look.

“What… is that…?”

 _“Oh my Death!”_   Jackie’s cry caught everyone off guard, their heads all instantly turning to look where the lantern’s gaze fell. On one screen, in the lowest right-hand corner, there was a live feed of what appeared to be a dungeon. And from what they could see, it looked as though the rest of Spartoi were in danger.

“Eruka…” Free sounded panicked as he pushed his way to the front of the group, eyes widening in terror when Justin Law appeared behind the witch and grabbed her shoulders. And as if he thought she might be able to hear him, the wolfman let out a panicked, desperate yell. “Eruka!”

“Shit!” Kilik cursed loudly. The Pots were quick to transform once more, the gauntlets appearing over his hands so that the students looked more than ready for a fight. The fire burning in his dark eyes only enforced that image. “We need to help the others!”

Kim turned to the group again, frowning slightly as though conflicted. “But what about the machine?”

“You all go,” Anya spoke up again, forcefully. Her grip was tight around the spear in her hands, confident and strong. “Harvar and I will deal with this.”

“But Anya--”

“No buts!”

Kilik and Kim glanced at each other, exchanging worried expressions. But as though they had telepathically deliberated with each other, they gave a small nod in unison and turned back to the third meister on their team.

“Are you two sure you’ll be alright on your own?” Free asked the girl, yet it seemed as though it was more of a rhetorical question more than anything. He was itching, desperate to leave, and looked ready to bound off at any moment to find Eruka. Sensing his discomfort, Anya gave a firm nod.

“Of course. We’ll come and find you guys the moment we’re done. Okay?”

Kim hesitated again. It was possible to see in her eyes that she didn’t feel comfortable leaving behind their team-mate, but the anxiety of both Free and now Kilik as he watched the monitor with horror began to creep up on her. She sighed heavily, biting her lip.

“Okay… Stay safe.”

Without another word, Kim, Free, and Kilik departed as quickly as they could, their hurried footsteps echoing after them. Anya stood alone for a minute, eyes rooted on the door they had dashed out of, before she tucked a strand of golden hair behind her ear and squared her shoulders.

“Right, Harvar. What can you tell me about this Moral Manipulation doohickey?”

 _“It looks as if it’s being protected by some sort of forcefield,”_ Harvar’s reflected image muttered as he scrutinised the computer monitor, even lifting his glasses to get a better view. _“If we can shut down the power for long enough, the shield should go down and we can then destroy the machine.”_

“Is there we can just shut down the shield _and_ the machine at the same time?” the meister questioned, frowning slightly. Her weapon remained stoic as he wracked his brains, trying to formulate an answer. Eventually, he responded.

_“Yes, if we cut off all the power across Baba Yaga. Unfortunately, I’m not sure if we’ll be able to actually access that sort of control now.”_

A pause hung in the air. Anya glanced over her shoulder, sapphire eyes locking onto a large box mounted on the wall behind her. Her eyes widened for a moment as realisation and an idea sunk in, then quickly hardened, determined.

“Yes… we can.”

Meanwhile, Harvar was focused on a different monitor. One which was feeding images from outside the castle. A feed which showed Sid Barett and a small group of the DWMA being chased _inside_ the castle by some of Arachnophobia’s men and Clowns. If Arachne’s forces were inside Baba Yaga, the rest of Spartoi were running out of time. Who knew how long it would be until they were found by the enemy? Harvar’s voice went cold.

_“I don’t think I will be able to hack into the Castle’s main control system in time--”_

“Who said anything about hacking?” Anya interrupted the spear quickly as she spun on her heels to full face the power supply box. With a confident smile, she raised her spear, aiming it straight at the object mounted on the wall. “Time to turn the lights off!”

She was about to charge, spear-first, into the power supply, when Harvar’s yell froze her in her tracks.

_“Anya, stop! Don’t be ridiculous!”_

She glared at the weapon in her hands, teeth ground tightly together. “I’m not being ridiculous. You generate electricity when we resonate! We can just blow the power.”

 _“You’ll hurt yourself, or worse!”_ protested Harvar, but once more he was cut off by his stubborn meister.

“Oh pish posh.” Her loose curls bounced when she shook her head, and determination glinted in her hard eyes. “We need to help everyone else as much as we can. _That_ is our priority.”

_“Anya…”_

“Can you think of another way?” she snapped suddenly, speaking with a force Harvar had never heard from his meister before. “Or one as quick as this? You said it yourself: we don’t have time. And we need to make sure this mission is successful.” There was a pause. Anya released a frustrated breath. “If we can weaken Arachnophobia’s forces, even just a bit, by stopping that machine projecting Asura’s wavelength, the others will be so much more successful.”

Where Harvar didn’t respond to her, she took it as though she had got her point across and had successfully convinced him. Anya swallowed thickly, ignoring the sensation of sweat beading on her forehead. Tightening her muscles, she focused on reaching out for her weapon’s soul and grabbing onto it. Never letting it go.

“Let’s go Soul Resonance!” their cry in unison echoed around the room, reverberating to such an extent that the images on the computer screens seemed to flicker. Electricity flooded through their link, lightning sparking at the tip of the golden spear. And then, Anya leapt forward, stabbing the weapon straight through the box before her.

For a moment, the world was still. Numb. Then, it sparked. The lightning crackled, tearing through the air. The power supply all but exploded, creating a bright light of gold where the spear met the wires.

And it was at that moment that the current surged and poured straight through Harvar, conducted by his mental form, and went tearing into his meister. The power flooded through her agonisingly, setting every nerve aflame. Anya could feel the electricity singeing her insides, burning her heart, overheating her core. If she was screaming, she couldn’t tell anymore. It was overwhelming, jolting her entire body. She shook violently, yet still held on firmly.

_“Anya!”_

It was as Harvar screamed out that suddenly, everything went dark. The monitors went black, the entire castle plunged into complete empty darkness. The hum of energy and power disappeared from the air. They had done it. They had overridden the power. It was a victory…

When Anya collapsed, dropping her weapon with a clatter, Harvar knew that she wasn’t going to get back up again. He still reverted back to his human form and tried to shake her awake, even though he knew it wouldn’t do anything. Her skin was horrendously burnt, her clothes and hair singed. She was almost unrecognisable, and Harvar felt sick to his stomach.

She wasn’t breathing. He couldn’t feel a pulse.

They had succeeded, but it had cost them so much. Just like he had known it would.

He just held her for a moment. Cradling her, as though it would provide her some comfort. When he heard the sound of footsteps approaching the room they were in, he didn’t look up. He didn’t look up when the door was thrown open and a small group of Arachnophobia’s men rushed in. He didn’t look up when they surrounded him and his partner. Harvar just held onto Anya, even as they tried to rip him away from her, hoping against hope that they had been able to help the others with their act. And knowing that he would never see the rest of his team again.

* * *

 

Maka had never felt this sick before. She hadn’t been able to look when the blade had sliced right through Eruka’s neck, as though it was a knife passing through butter. She had recoiled away, closed her eyes, tried to block out Liz’s horrified screech. But when she felt something hot and wet splatter against her cheek, she flinched and dared to open one eye.

The head lay directly across from her, those lifeless eyes staring into Maka’s green. And Maka couldn’t even make a sound. She wanted to scream, but the sound was lodged in her throat. She wanted to look away, but she was paralysed by the sight. Soul and Black☆Star’s furious shouts were drowned out by the sound of her own heart racing, beating out like a war drum inside her head. Through the haze, only one clear thought could surface. _Eruka’s dead._

Reality suddenly crashed around her again, waking her up from her daze like a wave of freezing water had been thrown over her exposed body. Maka instinctively shivered the moment she felt Giriko’s foot remove itself from its position on her back, suddenly freeing her. She was no longer pinned down. She could move.

Maka was about to scramble to her feet, ready to throw a punch at the chainsaw, when she felt herself hoisted up by a painfully strong grip. Soul’s angry protests grew louder, something which she wasn’t used to hearing from her usually more reserved partner. But she knew in her gut what was happening, and her stomach lurched and twisted at the realisation. The meister struggled, trying to free herself from Justin’s grip, but her held her firmly, refusing to let go.

Panic rose again, and the members of Spartoi all began to yell frantically, protesting to the events unfolding before their eyes. Maka demanded to be let go, thrashing furiously. As she stumbled, she felt her feet splash in the growing scarlet puddle which tarnished the floor. A repulsed shudder trembled down her spine, yet the guillotine remained unfazed. A crazed grin was locked on his face and he leered down at the girl, making her flinch back.

There was a clatter, and all eyes turned to the entrance of the room. There stood Free, Kim, and Kilik, the two meisters with their weapons at the ready. They were panting heavily, clearly having sprinted all the way there. The two students were watching the scene with wide eyes, gaze darting from Maka and Justin, to Giriko, to their friends locked in the cell. Free, on the other hand, had his eyes rooted on the floor. On the large pool of blood Maka was standing in. On Eruka’s body. His expression was blank. He was silent.

Maka felt her blood turn to ice when the wolfman lifted his head and she saw the feeling of pure murder in his eyes. She winced and closed her eyes as he growled and bent his knees, about to strike.

Then she was free. It took a moment for Maka to register what had happened, but her clarity returned when she saw Justin and Free grappling with each other on the ground, Free having clearly tackled the Death Scythe away from her.

She let out a gasp and stumbled backwards, her eyes shooting up just in time to see Kim using Jacqueline's weapons form to weaken the lock of the cell which had trapped Patty, Tsubaki, and Black☆Star. Once the metal had warped, both of the trapped weapons transformed to fall into the hands of the boy, who gave the door a powerful kick and forced his way out.

Meanwhile, Kilik was trying to land a punch on Giriko, who was ducking out of the way whilst still managing to keep Liz and Soul in his grip. As they scrambled around, Black☆Star leapt at the chainsaw, throwing him off balance. Giriko struggled, swearing furiously as he suddenly came under attack from the two young meisters, and released the two weapons in an attempt to shove Kilik and Black☆Star away from him.

The moment he was free, Soul was rushing over to Maka and dragging her away from the conflict. In a series of various flashes of light, Patty ended up holding Liz and firing shots at Giriko whilst he flailed angrily as Kilik and Black☆Star continued to try and pummel down on him. The scene was chaotic, wild. With no clear victor, the group continued thrashing at each other madly.

Then, suddenly, Black☆Star and Kilik were pulled away from the chainsaw by another figure, who slashed at Giriko, landing a slice on his arm. The free fist of the figure connected with Giriko’s jaw, snapping his head to one side from the force of the blow.

Spartoi could only watch the scene in awe, gasping at the sudden appearance of their teacher.

“Sid…” Maka breathed, watching as the zombie grappled with the weapon furiously. Free and Justin were still struggling with each other, and now Giriko was finding himself pinned in a similar position as his ally.

 _“Azusa told you to evacuate!”_ came Nygus’ voice from the blade which Sid swung, shouting with the force of a warrior to the children.

Nobody had a chance to reply, because their attention was suddenly caught by the already dim lights abruptly going out in a heartbeat. The power had gone out. There was a gasp as everyone froze, squinting through the blackness to try and make out their surroundings. Time was stilled for a while as the group collectively tried to figure out what had happened.

Then, everything sprung back to life when Free released a roar of anguish and tried to throw Justin off his back with the brute force of a wild beast. The guillotine kept his grip firm, however, and tried to stab the blade protruding from his arms into the gut of the wolfman. The moment that fight kicked off once more, Giriko began struggling with Sid again.

“Go! Now!” Sid bellowed at the group forcefully, momentarily releasing Giriko to turn to the kids once again. His tone caused Liz and Kim to instinctively take a step back, yet the others stood firm. Black☆Star clenched his fists, eyes blazing in the dark.

“We’re not leaving you!”

The zombie grunted and span round, shoving at the students situated at the front of their small group. They stumbled, forcing the others backwards as well until they were all past the threshold of the door. Once that had been cleared, Sid yelled again, a command of “Just go!” before he slammed the door shut, locking it from the inside.

When he turned again, he was face to face with Giriko. The chainsaw smirked and spat onto the floor, leaving a splatter of red. He raised the back of his hand to wipe away the blood from his mouth, yet his sharp teeth still were stained crimson.   

“You sacrificed a lot to make sure those brats wouldn’t get hurt,” he sneered, as though he knew exactly what was about to happen. Sid’s expression didn’t change as he reached for his utility belt, taking a grenade in his hands. The pin was pulled out with his teeth, his dead eyes locked on Giriko the entire time.

“That’s the kind of man I was.”

Just outside the door, Black☆Star was pounding at the wood with one fist, trying to yank it open with the other. That was right up until there was a rumble which reverberated through every single member of Spartoi standing there, in the dark.

The explosion shattered the atmosphere, blasting through the dungeons and throwing the group off their feet. Rubble of stone and wood went flying through the air in a plume of thick, black smoke. A blazing inferno roared over them, blazing in the room they had once all been in. Black☆Star was the first to his feet, screaming passionately as he tried to rush forward, into the flames. Tsubaki had to transform back to her human state and pull him back, despite how he thrashed and continued screaming for his caretaker.

It took a moment for the others to pull themselves up from the ruined ground, coughing on the smoke and groaning at their throbbing injuries. When they realised what had happened, every other student felt their eyes widen at the sight. They stood for a moment, aghast. Then, Soul was shouting over the smoke, encouraging everyone to move as quickly as possible.

And as they ran, Maka felt the heavy locket thumping against her chest. Thundering like her heart. Almost as though the DIJINN itself was mocking her with each beat, reminding her it was there. Reminding her that it was the one which had dragged her to the hell because of her stupid mistake. Reminding her that she was one who had ruined everything. That she had hurt people she cared about.

Swallowing back her guilt, she squeezed Soul’s hand and continued running up the stairs as fast as her legs would carry her, away from the darkness. Away from the dungeons. Away from their allies.

Nobody looked back.

* * *

 

The mood surrounding the group was sombre as they stood in the empty hallway, hidden in the shadows. They were covered in cuts and bruises and dust from the explosion, but otherwise, thankfully, they were unharmed.

Black☆Star was seething, and he looked as though he was about to punch a wall in order to take out his frustrations on _something_. Whilst he was struggling to contain himself, Jacqueline was pacing up and down the small space they had huddled up in, wringing her hands nervously. Her eyes kept darting around, scanning the hallway for signs of anyone else.

When she spoke, she was unable to mask the nervous tremble in her words. “Anya and Harvar should have been back by now.”

At that, Soul finally raised his head and locked his gaze onto the lantern. His eyes were dark, hooded. And he just looked exhausted. It was as though the weight of a hundred sleepless nights had been piled upon him and were now crushing him down. No longer was he horrified by the madness, or watching his friends and allies get harmed. He was just so tired of it all now. And as though he was fearful that she would vanish if he let go, his grip remained firm on Maka’s hand. She made no move to pull away either.

“I think… it’s just us now.”

Soul’s words sent a revolting shiver down the spines of his friends. Deep down, no matter how much they wanted to believe something else, they all knew that the scythe was right. They were alone now. A silence fell over them, however, and it stayed like that for a minute or so. As though they were collectively mourning their friends through a shared, momentary peace.

“Well, at least we know Anya and Harvar successfully shut down the power,” Kim eventually muttered as she squinted up at the chandeliers which now cast no light at all. The witch released a sharp sigh, before turning her attention to Maka. “That means the Moral Manipulation Machine should be off as well. Has Asura’s wavelength cleared enough for you to use your Soul Perception and locate Kid yet, Maka?”

Maka frowned to herself and concentrated, breathing in the atmosphere around her. Despite the fact that she could still feel the madness crawling over her skin, it was less amplified than before. Reduced enough so she could make out something through the fog, most likely.

“I’ll give it a shot,” the pigtailed meister quietly responded when Soul gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, and she closed her eyes. Her breathing slowed and she focused on the sound of her heartbeat, drowning out the sounds around her. The world went silent. She focused in on something in the distance, imaging herself reaching out for it. If she concentrated hard enough, directed every sense in one place, she could just make out a tiny glimmer flickering in the darkness.

Her eyes opened abruptly as her jade irises pulsed for a beat, shattering the void her mind had created. Instantaneously, her soul expanded, causing a jolt to shatter through the entire castle.

And somewhere, hidden in the dark, a pair of golden eyes snapped open in time with hers.

Maka released a gasp. Her eyes hardened.

“I found him.”


	8. Chapter 8

The doorway which loomed above the group was magnificent, made of the finest mahogany and etched with intricate web-like designs. Just from its outward appearance, it seemed heavy. It was impressive yet foreboding. Whatever was behind the door was not supposed to be released. This was a door designed to remain locked. The remaining members of Spartoi were staring up at it in awe, none of them making the move to attempt to open it first.

“Are you sure he's in here?” Liz’s voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. Maka almost missed the question, had it not been for the fact she noticed the weapon’s lips move just from the corner of her eye. The meister in response gave a firm nod, face set in stoke determination.

“I'm positive.”

With those words, there was no more room for hesitation. Kilik and Black☆Star nodded to each other, then stepped forward and grasped the handles. With a forceful tug, both boys pulled open the large doors, which groaned loudly enough to fill the hallway.

When the doors opened, they revealed a room darker than the hallways lacking in power which they had been walking through. The sun from outside, burning bright against the red skies, slipped through the large windows of the castle and pooled inside. However, when the light tried to reach the room beyond the doorway, the darkness seemed to suffocate and swallow it up, leaving only a void ahead of Spartoi.

This time, Kim was the first to move, commanding Jackie to transform and then using the lantern to illuminate the path ahead. Liz and Kilik ventured after, their hands intertwined, both wearing similar expressions of apprehension. Yet there was a certain gleam in everyone’s eyes: hope.

“ _Kiiiiiiiiiiiiiid_!” Black☆Star yelled into the darkness, his booming voice ringing out around them. “You in here?”

The sound which met their ears after that was a slight tsk from up ahead, followed by a dry laugh. It was recognisably sardonic, yet sounded rather dry. Almost as though whoever was voicing themselves had forgotten how to laugh.

“Even after two years, you still sound as obnoxious as ever, Black☆Star.”

And then they were all running, following the sound of that voice. Eventually, Jackie’s light landed on a figure up ahead, seated alone in the dark. He squinted and recoiled slightly, the light clearly too much for his eyes after having been submerged in the blackness for so long. But eventually, he offered Spartoi a weak smile, tipping his head towards them in greeting.

“Hello. It's good to see you all again.”

Everything seemed to explode there and then. A chorused cry of “Kid!” was released from the students, and Liz and Patty rushed forward, ready to embrace their meister. But they were abruptly stopped when Jackie’s light flashed against the swords behind him, finally illuminating the full scene.

The colour swiftly drained from Liz’s face, and she looked as though she was about to faint. Kilik stood behind her, supporting her, whilst the rest of the group felt their eyes widen at the sight. Their friend they remembered as proud and strong looked so painfully fragile in his current state. The amount of blood, both dried and fresh, which stained his shirt was enough to make even Maka feel weak in the knees. Although he was clearly trying to mask it behind a tired smile, the pain in his expression was visible to them all.

Eventually, it was Patty who stepped forward again, swallowing back the bile rising in her throat.

“Oh Death… Kiddo…. what did they _do_ to you?” she whispered, her pure horror sounding so uncharacteristically Patty that everyone all but shivered. The blonde bent down towards her friend, gently taking his face in her hands and staring straight into his eyes. Kid’s smile momentarily wobbled, but he bit on his lip and forced it back into place.

“Nothing I can’t survive.”

“You look like a living pincushion,” Black☆Star piped up, earning him a sharp jab in the ribs from Maka’s elbow.

Kid turned his head away from Patty’s caring hands to face the other boy, however his eyes widened when they met the sight of Maka. The air seemed to leave him and he stared, unable to form words as he took her image in. She offered him a small smile back, her hands tightening around Soul’s handle as a reflex from her trying to keep a brave face. She could only imagine how painful it must have been for him…

The Grim Reaper quickly looked away from the pigtailed meister, seemingly regaining the ability to speak. His mouth opened slightly as his gaze returned to Black☆Star, and he managed to choke out “I… I’m fine.”

“You’re obviously not fine,” Kilik scowled as he released Liz and stepped behind the large throne, squinting to try and make out the state of Kid’s back. “Kim, cast some light over here, would ’ya?”

Whilst the witch and other meister stood behind the reaper, examining the situation, Liz was by her former meister’s side and squeezing his hand reassuringly.

“Don’t worry, we’re going to get you out of here,” she spoke softly, her voice soothing to the ear. It was a stark contrast from how her hands were trembling and her eyes were watering, as though she still hadn’t quite fully recovered from the shock.   

“You shouldn’t have come,” Kid hissed back at her, gritting his teeth when he felt Kilik give his back a testing poke and sending a short jab of pain shooting into one of his open wounds. After collecting his breathing once more, he closed his eyes and mumbled quietly. “It was foolish of you all. You could have been killed.”

Then Maka stepped forward, her eyes hardening. “But we weren’t.”

“And we weren’t going to just sit around and let these guys kill you!” Patty added a little too sternly. Her hands were back at Kid’s face again, forcing him to look at her once again. Her cerulean eyes burned in the dark, and the reaper couldn’t help but feel a pang of remorse of how they had lost their childish spark. “We had to do something!”

“It was obviously a trap, though.”

“You could be a bit more thankful that we came to rescue your sorry ass,” Kim groaned at Kid’s remark, poking her head over the top of the throne to address the other members of Spartoi. Her mouth was set in a tight line, clearly anxious. “Okay, we’re going to have to pull the swords out.” Her turquoise gaze then flitted over to Kid, who was glancing at her over his shoulder. The worry on his face was hard to miss. “Don’t worry, I’ll heal you as much as I can.”

Kilik then peered around the throne, letting out a sharp command. “Black☆Star, give us a hand here. Liz, Patty, make sure Kid’s okay.” And with that order, the others followed. Black☆Star released Tsubaki, who reverted back into her human form and rushed to hold onto Kid’s free hand whilst Liz continued clutching the other one tightly and Patty told him over and over again just to focus on her. Black☆Star grimaced at the swords and grabbed onto the hilt of one, preparing to tug it free.

“Now hold still,” he began in an uncharacteristically soft voice. His eyes were sympathetic towards Kid, who was squeezing both Liz and Tsubaki’s hands. “This will hurt.”

Just as Black☆Star pulled and Kid released a gut-wrenching scream, Maka quickly looked away, unable to bear the sight. There was a flash from the scythe in her hand as Soul’s face appeared in the blade. He frowned, before speaking coolly.

_“Come on. We have a date with Arachne Gorgon.”_

Maka glanced at him, then her mouth formed into a small “o” as understanding washed over her. He’d clearly picked up on what Stein had told them all before they arrived at Baba Yaga. Now her partner wanted them to follow through with it. She gave a small nod, then turned back to face the rest of Spartoi. Tsubaki, having clearly heard, shot them a determined smile and nodded with encouragement.

“We’ll catch up with you,” she began firmly, urging them on. “Good luck.”

Just as Maka was about to turn and leave, she was stopped by Liz calling out to her. When the jade eyes met sapphire, Maka could see they were hard and cold like ice. Lacking remorse or sympathy. Her mouth was set in a frown, and the next words she said were spat out, as though poison on her tongue.

“Make that bitch pay.”

And Maka found herself nodding in agreement before she turned and marched right out of that dark chamber, into the halls of Baba Yaga. There was fire in her gut, adrenaline in her veins, and one thought on her mind. She was going to kill that witch for everything she had done in this world. That was a promise to herself.

* * *

“I thought you said we would be able to destroy the DWMA!”

Asura was panicking, twitching nervously as he paced back and forth. His nails had been bitten right down as his fear had taken ahold with each bit of progress the DWMA had made. Above him, perched in her web, Arachne took a long sip of her red wine.

“Calm yourself, Asura,” she spoke smoothly as though her voice was honey, seemingly unfazed. The Kishin snapped to face the spider witch, scarlet eyes wide and manic. Even his third eye seemed larger than usual, and full of fear.

“How can I be calm?!” Asura all but shrieked. The air around him trembled with the volume of his words, as though the atmosphere itself was quaking along with him. “Your best men are dead, Justin too. My Clowns are weakening now the power is down. At this rate, they’ll retrieve the Grim Reaper.” He was ranting, unable to contain himself. Arachne simply raised her perfect eyebrow, releasing a small sigh.

“...They already have.” The vibrations in her web had informed her of the fact. Unsurprisingly, the news did not go down well with Asura. He clenched his fists, teeth grinding together, before releasing another high-pitched shout.

“We cannot let order take over again! I’ll kill them myself--!”

“No.” The single word silenced Asura, quashing her panic with its simple finality. Arachne finished off her drink with one fluid motion, then slipped down from her web to approach the Kishin. Her dark eyes drilled right through him in the gloom, and she took his hands in hers firmly. Her touch was cold, her flesh ice. “You’re not thinking straight, my darling. You should stay hidden, try to escape with some of your Clowns if you can. You’re the one fuelling our world after all. If something happens to _you_ , everything we worked for crumbles.”

Suddenly, the web above them vibrated again, the reverberations causing the air to ripple and flutter. Arachne paused, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. Her gaze had now pulled away from the Kishin, instead focusing on the door behind him.

“Oh. It seems as though someone’s looking for me,” she purred, finding more amusement in the fact than worry. But she paused suddenly, her expression dropping. There was a moment of silence as she studied the atmosphere, focusing her attention on the whispers she could feel from her threads connection every corner of the castle. Then, she released a long, cold laugh. “How interesting.”

When Asura gave her a confused glance, her smile only widened. In the dimmed light, her teeth looked more like fangs. Her entire image was suddenly so much more predatory than the elegance it had been before. “Do not worry. I’ve killed this girl before, and I can easily do it again.”

* * *

Maka continued her descent through the castle, holding onto Soul’s weapon form as tightly as she could. Every inch surrounding her was silent, meaning the only sound she could hear was her own breathing, accompanied by her own heart pounding in her ears. It was eerily still with no other signs of life. She felt on edge.

Wanting to break the painful silence, the ash-blonde cleared her throat prominently and turned her head back to the scythe. On cue, Soul’s face appeared reflected in the blade, an eyebrow raised at his meister in anticipation.

“You’ve consumed over ninety-nine souls on Death’s list, right?” her question came out hissed, voice kept low so that it would only be heard by herself and her weapon partner. In response, Soul gave a curt nod, a smirk tugging at his mouth. Maka smiled easily in response, the tension momentarily leaving her shoulders. “Okay, good. We’re going to make you a Death Scythe, Soul.”

Their journey continued, the quiet returning. The atmosphere seemed to grow tense, and a shiver ran down Maka’s spine. It felt as though spiders were crawling all over her flesh. She felt repulsed, but also a sense of foreboding, causing her stomach to knot itself tightly inside of her.

“Stay in your weapon form,” she whispered again to her weapon, voice softer than it had been before. “Remember what happened last time with Arachne’s strings? We don’t need that repeated.” Soul’s response came in the form of a metallic grunt, followed by a low mutter.

_“You can say that again.”_

Before Maka had a chance to respond, she was caught by surprise by the fact her body suddenly seemed to be… stuck. Trapped. The girl felt her eyes widen and she tried to move, only to realise that she had seemingly walked into some sort of odd netting… Almost like a web.

 _“Maka?!”_ Soul cried out in surprise as they both realised exactly what had happened. Maka squirmed, trying to free herself of the thin, almost invisible threads which trapped her body, but she found the more she struggled, the tighter the web trapped her. A dark chuckle reverberated around her, filling every crevice with its echo, and Maka went still. Her eyes hardened, narrowing into a ferocious glare.  

“Well well, I wasn’t expecting to see you again, little girl,” the voice purred out into the hallway, just as a figure emerged from the shadows.

Arachne emerged, smiling in delight at Maka as she continued trying to squirm free. When the sunlight hit herm the jewels encrusted into Arachne’s dress glimmered like fresh morning dew drops on the silk thread of a spider web. The witch was the very image of killer elegance, her fluid movements matched with a smile that would make anyone’s stomach knot in fear.

“Last I recall, you were nothing more than a corpse,” Arachne continued smoothly as she approached the trapped meister. Once the spider was standing right before her prey, she reached out a delicate hand to take the girls’ chin, forcing her to look straight into her dark eyes. “Tell me, girl, how did you defy death?”

Maka’s response gave in the form of a low growl and nothing more. The pigtailed girl pulled her face away from the witch, her glare intensifying in the moment. That only earnt an amused chuckle from Arachne.

However, at the exact same time, she could feel Soul’s soul wavelength reaching out for her. Calling to her. She responded, matching her soul to his own. She could feel the link start up between them, and a moment later, it intensified.

With a cry of “Witch Hunter!”, Maka swung her scythe down, causing Arachne to take a step back to avoid the shimmering blade. The weapon easily sliced through the web which had trapped them, causing the threads around to disintegrate into nothingness when Maka’s wavelength tore through them.

Arachne momentarily looked horrified, causing Maka to smirk back at her triumphantly. But Arachne’s horror soon transitioned into something far more fearsome as the witch released a cackle.

“Oh, so you do want to fight, then,” she hissed. Her form suddenly began to grow larger, distorting and changing shape. Maka stared up at the sight, recognising it from the last time she had battled Arachne in her own world. Her clutch on her weapon tightened.

Arachne’s laugh echoed all around them, filling the space once more. It grew along with her, sounding manic and wild. By the time she had stilled, Arachne’s body had changed, resembling that of a giant, terrifying spider. From the waist up she was human, whilst the rest of her form was just like the arachnid she was named after, with legs which seemed to take up the entire hallway. Maka heard Soul gulp as they stared up at her. The spider witch smirked down at them, her fang-like teeth catching the sunlight and glinting dangerously. That was the only warning of what was to come, however, before she suddenly struck.

Her huge body lurched forward, diving at the scythe-wielding girl in the blink of an eye. The monster's front legs struck downwards, and Maka had to dive and roll out of the way to avoid being hit. When Arachne struck the ground, it cracked under her, sending small rubble flying into the air.

 _"Shit!"_ Soul cursed, gaping in awe at the damage Arachne had caused in her wake. _"She's strong."_

"No kidding," Maka muttered in response bitterly, eyes narrowed at the witch before her. But before she could say any more, another of the spider's legs was suddenly striking down, ready to hit her. Maka released a grunt and quickly blocked the attack using Soul, slashing the blade upwards and shielding her body so the limb clattered against the blade instead. At the contact, Arachne released a hiss of pain and raised her leg, as though she was about to attempt to hit again.

Maka was on her toes, however, and was already darting out of the way, making her way behind the monstrosity to prevent getting caught by another attack. At the movement, Arachne let out an angry growl, then started muttering under her breath.

In the next instant, more webs sprung up around Maka, the threads twisting and writing, ready to trap her. Gritting her teeth, the girl continued dodging, bringing up the scythe to block and parry the webs which were trying to surround her. And as all this was going on, her mind was racing, recalling the events of how she defeated Arachne before. An idea hit her.

“Soul,” she hissed, still trying to dodge as Arachne turned slowly and began to advance. “What about the black blood?” The response she received was hardly encouraging. Her partner sounded nervous when he answered her, clearly on edge.

 _“I haven’t used it at all… not since you…”_ He trailed off and swallowed, and Maka could sense the worry in his wavelength. When he spoke again, though, he sounded stubborn, firm. _“No. We can’t. It’s far too dangerous. It might drive you into insanity. We can’t risk it.”_

“We have to!”

Maka was cut off when another web darted past her face, causing her to slash at it with the scythe in order to prevent being hit. She grit her teeth again, trying to focus on a solution. The webs were surrounding her fast. At this rate, she wouldn’t have much room to manoeuvre.

“At least play your piano!” This time, she snapped the words out, commanding her partner more than negotiating with him. When she didn’t receive an instant reply, her frown deepened. “Please! Trust me, Soul!”

It didn’t take long before she could hear it. The erratic sound, so wild and unique, filling her soul. A tiny smile found its way onto her face as relief washed over her. Hearing Soul playing provided some comfort, and it fuelled her on, filling her very core with energy.

His playing became more passionate, more erratic. It pushed her wavelength outwards, causing it to expand. Maka’s small smile became a triumphant grin as Arachne tried to force her webs around Maka once more. That was the first move towards her downfall, however.

Maka concentrated, focusing all her energy on increasing her healing wavelength. As Soul’s song charged through her, as the webs grew closer, she suddenly released it all in a tremendous burst. The healing wavelength went tearing through the web, like electricity in a circuit.

Arachne was left horrified, unable to process what had just occurred. When the witch released a gasp, Maka found herself smirking. Clearly, in this ‘Red World’, her original fight with Arachne had been much shorter. The spider witch had probably seen her use this power.

The webs were soon backfiring on Arachne, leaving her trapped and paralysed in her own magic. Arachne gasped again as she struggled to move, but found herself unable to do so.

“H-how?!” she gasped, her wide eyes flitting over to Maka just as the pigtailed meister bent her legs and propelled herself forward. The meister leapt at the witch, scythe held aloft. But instead of striking straight at the enemy, the girl instead focused on landing just behind her, on Arachne’s mutated body. The witch thrashed, attempting to turn around. From the way her soul quaked, Maka could sense how panic and fear was taking over Arachne. For a moment, Maka allowed that panic to wash over the witch, hoping she was not enjoying the feeling.

Then, she and Soul were resonating once more. The scythe blade grew and with one final battle cry, Maka rushed forward once again. The weapon sliced through the air, slashing at the witch right at her hips. The upper-part of her body, the human section, fell to the floor with a sickening thud.

A moment later, it all disintegrated. Maka and Soul both fell to the ground as Arachne disappeared into nothingness, replaced by a single violet soul floating where she once lay.

They lay there on the floor, breathless, panting, staring up at the ceiling above them. For a moment, the only sound was their heavy breathing filling the dense air. Then Soul released a chuckle, a light laugh of disbelief.

“We… we did it!” he laughed louder, face breaking out into a large grin. He turned his head to the side to face his just-as breathless partner, and he beamed at her brightly. “Maka, we did it! We won!”

And Maka was returning the smile, sharing his laugh.

“Yeah, we did it.”

Their hands were still intertwined, neither one moving to break the link between them. They ached, every muscle sore from everything which occurred that day, covered in cuts and bruises from earlier events. But they were still alive, and they had _won_.

Arachne’s soul hovered in the air just a few feet away from them; the trophy of their success. The very air around it seemed to pulse, whilst the heavy locket resting on Maka’s chest was warm and thrumming with energy, as though reacting to the very magic in the air.  As though the magic tool itself knew that soon, Maka would be successful in her quest. She was that much closer to reverting her wish. It was within grasping distance; she could reach out and touch it.

She would soon return home.

And it was then, as Soul was sitting up and reaching out towards his final soul to be consumed, that it hit her. _She would soon return home._

Maka would reverse her wish, but that meant she would no longer be in this “Red World” any more. This world where all her friends had lost her once before, and would soon lose her again. This world which was so terribly damaged and still needed to be fixed. This world where people had _died_ to save her and her friends. This world which she wanted to help bring back to its former glory.

She couldn’t turn her back on it just yet.

Without even thinking, Maka bolted upright and lurched forward, snatching the soul from her partner before he could take it himself. Soul turned to stare at her blankly, face dropped in confusion. She sat there and stared back, clutching the glowing orb and holding it back from him.

“Maka…?”

“No!” she snapped, causing him to jolt back in surprise. The fiery stubbornness returned to her eyes and her soul hardened, remaining firm in her decision. “You can’t have it. Not yet.”  
  
The air around them tensed, and Maka knew there and then that she had a hell of a lot of explaining to do.


	9. Chapter 9

Getting Kid free of his chains had been an agonising experience. He had tried to stay composed, and the presence of his friends had certainly calmed his nerves some. But, even so, it was excruciating. Nobody blamed him when he had been unable to hold back his reactions to the pain, his screams. The sounds had been gut-wrenching, and every single one of his friends felt their hearts twist each time another sword was pulled free.

But they had made it; it was over. The group staggered out of the dark and into the hallway outside, Kid being supported by both of the Thompson sisters. His arms had been draped over their shoulders, despite how he protested and insisted that he could walk on his own. They hardly believed him, especially when he did stand they saw how weak he was on his feet.

Black☆Star led the group, Tsubaki at his side. Just behind them was Kilik with his twin gauntlets at the ready, though he continually glanced over his shoulder to make sure Kid and the Thompsons behind were alright. The sunlight streaming in through the windows was still causing the reaper to wince, his eyes still yet to adjust to the extreme difference from where he had spent the last two years. Finally, Kim held Jackie in her weapon form, prepared to defend the group from behind if need be.

It was a relief when they stumbled across Maka and Soul, the two of them bruised and battered, but alive. However, when they found the weapon-meister pair, the two were much more tense than they expected. Maka sat there, clutching onto Arachne’s soul, staring hardly at her weapon who seemed baffled in response. Spartoi stared at the sight for a moment, confused, before Tsubaki cleared her throat.

“What’s going on?”

Surprised by the sound of her voice, Maka and Soul’s heads snapped in the direction of the group, eyes wide in shock. Silence vibrated between them for a moment, before Soul frowned and answered.

“We killed Arachne. But…” he paused, glancing at his partner perplexedly. She didn’t give him any form of a response, so the scythe sighed and continued. “Maka won’t let me consume the soul. I have no idea why.”

Everyone’s attention jolted to Maka once again, and she seemed to shrink slightly under their gazes. The members of Spartoi all wore similar expressions of bewilderment, unable to wrap their heads around the situation they had just been presented with. Kid frowned, his eyes narrowing sharply as he locked on to the pigtailed girl.

“Maka. Explain.”

His demand left no room for negotiation, and the girl in question released a heavy sigh. Her eyes fell, focusing on the locket which hung at her chest. She opened her mouth, trying to form words, trying to explain herself. But in her mind she _knew_ how ridiculous it would sound. She had no idea how to make everyone believe her. In the end, she settled on a simple statement.  

“I'm… I'm not the Maka you know.”

Kim raised an eyebrow at that, tapping her foot impatiently. “What do you mean?”

There was another pause, awkward and painful. Maka slowly stood, Soul following quickly behind her. Her grip remained firm on the soul of Arachne, still refusing to let it go. She exhaled again, then squared her shoulders and raised her head. Her expression was neutral, yet her eyes seemed distant.

“The reason I'm here… that I’m alive is that… Do you see this?” she trailed off, motioning to the locket she wore. Everyone’s eyes darted to it, the confusion in their faces having yet to fall. Maka sucked in a breath and continued. “This is the DIJINN. It's a magic tool which grants wishes. Very long story short, I made a stupid wish and it took me to another timeline… I think. I'm not the Maka from your world is what I'm trying to say...”

Silence fell over the group. Some of the students exchanged perplexed glances. The confusion remained firmly fixed on everyone’s faces. However, there was another emotion underlining their feelings. Complete and utter disbelief.

Patty was the one to speak up first again, almost spluttering on her words as she tried to get out a calm question. All that came out was an exclaimed “ _What_?!”

Maka winced at the scepticism in her tone. Her emerald eyes darted back to her weapon partner, whose blank stare was just as unnerving. When she spoke again, she was focusing on him, addressing him alone. Her statement was for him, not necessarily for the others. This explanation was one he needed more than anyone else. One she should have given him before now.

“I'm from a world where you are a Death Scythe, Soul,” Maka began slowly, noticing how his eyes widened just a bit. She straightened her back and continued, mentally trying to flick away the doubts that were trying to creep into her mind. He needed to know. They _all_ needed to know. “My skies are blue, not red. Asura never won. It's a better place. And you _can't_ consume Arachne's soul now because it'll send me back there when you do.”

The quiet which followed was crushing them all. The only sound was the cogs ticking inside everyone’s minds as they pondered over the information they had been given. Most remained doubtful, their eyes dark with disbelief. Soul, however, swallowed thickly and ran a hand through his ivory hair slowly.

“But… If this is true…” he paused, sucking in a sharp breath. “You need to go home, Maka…”

“No!” Maka snapped back quickly, making Kim flinch at the severity. Her voice raised an octave, and suddenly her eyes seemed to water. Every muscle of hers was tense, every breath she made heavier. “I don't want to abandon you again!”

Her cry seemed to freeze everyone, leaving nothing but the continuing stunned silence. Nobody wanted to speak up now; she was centre stage. All focus was on her. Maka tightened her grip on Arachne’s soul instinctively, her body trembling now that the truth was finally spilling free.

“This world… I'm invested in it, I guess is the best way of explaining it. I can’t leave you now.” Though her voice was quiet, there was determination behind her words. She was not going to back down, and the other members of Spartoi knew it. “I just can’t. Not after Eruka and Anya and everyone else risked so much. I need to stay and help you fix everything. We need to save this world _together_.”

Then Black☆Star was reaching forward, placing a hand on her shoulder. It was a gesture of comfort, sympathy. He couldn’t quite understand the situation even after her explanation, but he could see how emotional Maka was because of it.

“Maka…”

“I've made up my mind,” she cut Black☆Star off quickly, just as stubborn as ever. Her eyes were burning jade flames, brimming with resolve. When she spoke, she made sure to look at every single member of Spartoi this time. Addressing them all, one by one. “Let me stay longer. Once things begin to return to normal here, Soul can have Arachne’s soul. But first let me help you sort everything out. Let me help you _fix it_ all.”

There was a hesitation for a moment. Collectively, Spartoi looked at each other, as though trying to gauge each other’s reactions. It was Kid, however, who spoke up first. He straightened his back and tried to step away from Liz and Patty, ignoring how they protested the movement, and walked towards Maka. His eyes drilled into hers, and he placed both hands on her shoulders.

“If that is what you really want, then fine. But you must be sure this is what you want to do,” Kid began firmly, taking the role of authority. Maka starred back into his eyes, nodding with resolve.

“I’m sure.”

Kid’s nod was curt, and he released her. After returning back to the Thompson sisters, allowing the two to fuss and support him again, he cleared his throat and addressed the rest of the group once more.

“Let's get out of here, then.”

“And where do you think you’re going?”

The foreign voice caused everyone to freeze. The blood in their veins went still, hearts slowing right down. Maka felt her stomach sink as realisation dawned upon them. Now, there was only one person left who could elicit such a response from them.

Spartoi turned around slowly, cold sweats beading on their foreheads when they laid eyes on the Kishin Asura standing just a few feet away from them, blocking the other end of the hallway. Their way out.

The Kishin allowed a sickening grin to take hold of his face, yet his eyes were wild, manic. Like he was a feral animal. Slowly, painfully slowly, he stepped towards the group. His movements were jerky, his body seeming to shake and quiver. The high-pitched giggle which escaped him sounded just as insane as the wavelength which rippled off him, leaving everyone petrified.

“You children have caused a lot of problems for me today,” Asura hissed, the warped smile not falling from his face. It was unnerving how mad he seemed. “But no more. You will not ruin _my_ world. I won’t allow it.”

The air felt hot, burning with his insanity. His eyes were deranged, so much so that Kim and Liz couldn’t help but take a step back nervously. Kid however glared back at the other immortal being, pure loathing oozing out of his glower like venom. Maka and Black☆Star also stood firmly, pushing down their fears and keeping a brave face at the sight of the approaching demon.

Suddenly, Asura stopped without warning. His red eyes trailed over to the soul Maka had in her grasp. The smile fell, instead replace with a blank expression. His eyes were clouded, hollow. Yet something remained in his irises, smouldering behind the murkiness of his soul, hidden from view. It was something which caused shivers to pluck at every single vertebra in the children of Spartoi’s spines. Bloodlust.

Asura stared at the soul, and a mournful whisper escaped him.  

“Arachne…”

The clarity then returned to his eyes and his focus snapped back to the children. The man barred his teeth, releasing a feral growl. His scarves twisted and writhed around him like snakes, ready to strike their prey. At the sight, Tsubaki quickly transformed into her chain-scythe form, landing in the ready hands of her meister.

“You’re all going to die now,” Asura began surprisingly calmly. A serene smile returned to his face, but there was clearly something twisted behind it. Kilik gulped at the sight. “Goodbye.”

Before anyone had an opportunity to dodge, one of Asura’s scarves had shot out to strike at the children. Black☆Star leapt out of the way, the flesh just scraping his shoulder like a knife, leaving behind a small ribbon of crimson cut into his limb. He was lucky, though.

Unlike Kim. The pink-haired witch just hadn’t been fast enough. The scarf which Black☆Star had dodged twisted and formed itself into a point, sharp like a dagger. When it split through the air, cutting it like butter, Kim had only just spun around and held out her lantern to defend herself. But no flames came in time. Instead, the scarf shot straight through her chest.

Jackie’s scream which resonated around the students was the first indication of what had occurred. When Kim fell a moment later, convulsing on the cold floor as blood began to pool around her, panic set in on the students. Fear gripped a hold of them. And Asura released a blood-curdling laugh.

With that, all hell broke loose. Liz and Patty scrambled away from the scene, dragging Kid with them and darting to hide behind the doorway of another room. The reaper protested furiously, thrashing in their grip as he yelled at them, demanding them to let him go so he could join the fight. Despite the fact he was in no condition to do so.

Meanwhile, Kilik roared and charged at the Kishin, his gauntlet-covered fist raised and ready to strike. Energy sparked from the weapon, the blow charging up with the resonance of their souls so that it could inflict some damage. Yet Asura simply smirked at the attack and, with a flick his wrist, sent another one of his scarves out in the blink of an eye. It crashed into Kilik’s torso, knocking the wind out of the boy and sending him flying. When his body crashed into the wall behind him, the crack loud enough to be felt by every remaining member of Spartoi, Asura’s grin only grew wider. From her hiding spot, Liz had to cover her mouth to stifle the scream that was ready to escape her.

Whilst Asura was distracted, however, Black☆Star took the open opportunity he saw. Resonating with Tsubaki, the ninja released a furious cry of “Black☆Star Big Wave!” and barrelled into the Kishin’s side, knocking the man off his feet with the force of the shockwave which trembled through them both. The victory was short lived, for no sooner had Asura realised what had happened, he was attacking once again with his scarves. One shot out and wrapped around the boy’s waist, pulling him off him, whilst his others pushed up from the floor to help the Kishin stand to his feet once again. And when that had been done, Black☆Star was discarded in a similar way to Kilik. The force was even more brutal, though, and when his body hit the floor, he seemed to have been bent in half at a horrifically unnatural angle.

Maka was staring in horror at the scene playing out before her, petrified by how easily her friends had been defeated. Asura was acting as though he was doing no more than flicking away pesky little insects, and Maka felt sick to her stomach. But fire burned in her gut as well; rage. She would have been ready to charge forward into that battle herself, had it not been for Soul grabbing her wrist and dragging her quickly to where Kid and the Thompsons themselves had been hiding. Once the small group had assembled, they huddled together, all panicked to their very core.

“Asura is far too strong for you to take on,” Kid hissed, his eyes dark with apprehension. “The only one who could ever stand a chance against him now would be my father. Or… me, potentially. I am a fully-fledged Grim Reaper now…”

“But you can’t fight him!” Patty quickly snapped back, her tone low still. She was frowning severely at her meister, her scowl as harsh as the scar which marred her face. “You’re in no shape to fight now. Besides, you know you can’t wield me or Liz any more. At least, you can’t resonate with us.”

At those words, Soul’s eyes widened. His attention snapped to Maka, gaze drifting down to the witch’s soul she still held in her hands. His mouth dropped into a frown when he murmured to himself “Kid needs a Death Scythe…”

All eyes were on him in the next moment, Liz and Patty’s expressions turning into those of realisation. Kid gave a firm nod of agreement at the scythe’s statement, his eyes momentarily flicking back to take in Maka’s anxious appearance.

“Kid needs a Death Scythe, Maka!” Soul repeated, far more forcefully this time. His words had a bite to them which made Maka clutch onto the soul more tightly, her eyes widening just a little. “Give me Arachne’s soul!”

But she shook her head in responses, quick to protest the idea. There was no way… not now… The others needed her. “I’m not going to abandon you again, Soul!” Not at a time like this in particular, when all of her friends were in danger. She couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

“We don’t have time for this!”

“Hurry up and make him a Death Scythe!” Liz tried to urge the girl, desperation evident when she spoke. She looked panicked, eyes welling up with tears which were threatening to spill over at any given moment. But Maka shook her head stubbornly as her emerald gaze darted between the other faces surrounding her.

“No! I’m not leaving you!”

Before she could try to argue any more, though, she suddenly felt a pair of hands take her own. Her eyes glanced down to observe their intertwined fingers, watching as the warm hands gave hers a reassuring squeeze. When she looked up again, she was looking right into the golden eyes of the last Grim Reaper.

Death the Kid offered her a weak smile, the best he could manage in the situation, as his eyes softened.

“It’s alright,” he reassured her, his words warm and comforting. They left Maka frozen, unable to respond. “You can go home now. We’ll deal with the rest ourselves.”

And then he was easing Arachne’s soul away from her, gently taking it as her grip loosened. Maka found herself unable to stop him then. One hand remained on hers, whilst the other offered the final soul to her weapon partner. At that, her gaze returned to Soul, and her eyes widened as he smiled back at her the same way Kid had done just a moment ago.

When the scythe took the soul, Maka could feel the DIJINN resting against her chest start to heat up. It brimmed with energy, as though reacting to the events taking place around her. When Soul raised what remained of Arachne Gorgon to his lips, the heat intensified, and Maka found herself unable to move her body. She was petrified, every nerve paralyse.

She couldn’t even voice one final protest as Soul consumed his hundredth soul. As he became a Death Scythe once more.

There was a blinding flash, bright enough to make Maka feel as though her eyes were being burnt out of their sockets. She wanted to scream, to cry out to the friends before her, but they disappeared in an instant, lost in a wild blur of colour. The burning DIJINN felt like an inferno raging against her chest, the silver of the locket turning white hot and angry. Her skin was being scorched, but she couldn’t cry out. The heat and light was suffocating her, whilst her flesh felt as though it was being ripped apart from her bones in the chaotic fire surrounding her.

Then, as quickly as it started, everything went still.


	10. Chapter 10

Her body was weightless. She was floating. There was no colour here; no light. The world was a void, and she was at its centre. Simply existing. Numbness covered her like a thick blanket, suffocating and heavy. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe, but it felt as though she did not need to anyway. Not in this emptiness. It was so calm. So still. She was just a soul; a single tiny light burning weakly in the vacuity. This was true peace. Perfect serenity. Nothingness.

Then, a spark. A single flickering ember of colour in the distance. It grew, catching fire. More shades and hues began to run and leak into one. Shapes formed. The darkness around began to flicker like static. Those colours became brighter, bolder, more vivid. Everything around her grew and blossomed, slowly becoming _alive_.

Something distant was heard; a faint call. The sound barely reached her ears, the voice muffled as though she was underwater.

“She’s waking up!”

She didn’t want to open her eyes at first. It was a struggle just to lift her eyelids; they were heavy and protesting against the light which forced its way into her vision. But once it had seeped through, the darkness receded, and there was no way to stay in slumber indefinitely.

Maka groaned as her eyelids fluttered open. The first thing she took in was the plain white ceiling above, and the two blurred figures which hovered over her. It took a moment for her eyesight to adjust, but when it settled, she instantly recognised the all-too familiar shark-toothed smile of her partner.

Soul sighed in relief, his expression tired but soft. “Welcome back to the land of the living, tiny-tits.”

However, it was the second figure that really grabbed Maka’s attention. The woman was smiling down at her, her pale blue hair framing her face and almost glowing from the light of the room like an ethereal halo. Maka released a gasp and shot upright, almost falling off the lilypad-green sofa she had been lying on. It was now that she was able to take in her surroundings – she was in a small living room which had been decorated rather plainly. Sitting across from her in an armchair the same shade of green as the sofa was Free, who appeared far too massive for the seat. He gave the meister a wave and a toothy grin, which she blinked at in response. A breath later, and her head was snapping to the side to face the woman once more.  

“Eruka!” she gawked at the frog witch, whose smile faltered at the surprise in Maka’s tone. A smirk appeared instead, and she nodded once.

“That _is_ my name.”

“You’re alive!”

“Huh?” Eruka frowned, her head tilting to one side. Confusion was evident in her eyes, and Soul’s expression mimicked that of the witch’s at Maka’s words. However, what everyone else failed to notice was how the statement seemed to jolt Free, shaking him to his very core. How the wolfman’s expression fell, how his eyes darkened. How his face looked as though his very heart had been crushed right in front of him. It went ignored, missed. Instead, Eruka raised her eyebrows and shook her head at the pigtailed girl, unsure of what to make of her outburst. “Of course I’m alive…”

“Are you alright?” Soul quickly asked his partner. His eyebrows had knotted together in concern, and it was only then that Maka noticed that his forehead seemed to be lined by creases which hadn’t been there before. “Free found you passed out in the street and brought you back here. What happened? You were missing all night, Maka! I was so worried--”

Maka was quick to interrupt him, her response of “I’m fine” sounding far more blunt than she had intended. Her gaze darted between the weapon and frog witch, the question she posed for both of them. “Where’s Asura?”

Soul and Eruka glanced at each other, mirroring each other's perplexity at Maka’s odd question, before returning their eyes to the girl in question.

“Trapped in the black blood…” the scythe explained slowly, as though it was obvious. “On the moon… where he’s been for the past year…”

The panic and confusion drifted away from Maka’s eyes and slowly, her expression morphed into a smile.

“I’m back. So everything’s… normal again…” she muttered, her smile growing wider and brighter as realisation began to sink in. The girl beamed and jumped to her feet, throwing her arms around both Eruka and Soul and dragging them into a bone-crushing hug. “Everything’s normal again!” Her carefree laugh rang loudly in their ears, causing Soul to wince at the volume.

“Did you hit your head or something?” he mumbled, though just the sight of his meister being okay was enough to bring the faintest smile back to him. Eruka, however, still remained as confused as she had began.

Instead of answering Soul’s likely rhetorical question, Maka’s eyes widened and she instinctively reached for her neck. Once her fingertips brushed the cool metal of a chain, she cast her gaze down and wrapped her hand around the heavy locket which sat at her bust. The magic tool was cold to the touch, so much colder than it had been before. There was no longer the buzz of energy about it. It felt… lifeless…

“The DIJINN!” Maka gasped as her head jolted up so she could lock eye contact with her weapon. Soul still looked perplexed, even as Maka held the magic tool up to his face. “We need to get this to Kid!”

“Uh…” The Death Scythe had no opportunity to get any more words out, for Maka quickly grabbed his wrist and hurriedly dragged him out of the living room, towards the front door of Eruka and Free’s cosy home. Maka quickly grinned at the two, offering them both a wave.

“Thanks Eruka, Free!”

And with that, she was gone, leaving a very confused witch and a still-silently brooding wolfman. Eruka scratched the back of her head as she stared at the door Maka and Soul had just departed though.

“No problem…?” she mumbled, despite the fact they were both long gone. With a shrug, the woman span on her heels to face her house-mate. “Well that was weird.” It was only then Eruka saw the glum expression the immortal wore. She frowned in concern, crouching down beside his chair and taking his large hand in her own. “Free? What’s wrong?”

It took him a moment to respond. When he did, his voice was heavy, tired. Almost as though it was a challenge just to formulate the thought, let alone saying the words themselves. “What Maka said when she woke up…”

“That I was alive? It was weird, yeah, but…” she trailed off when she looked at his expression once more. It was with a jolt that Eruka realised how pained Free looked. How empty his eyes were, as though he had witnessed something unspeakable. She could hardly believe that such a statement could trigger something so… deep. It was such an embedded pain from inside him. Free looked as though he was fighting back tears _._

“I saw… it was like I had a nightmare… a memory that you… you…”

And then he broke down, and Eruka could barely imagine how vivid, how realistic whatever he saw _was_ to reduce him to this state. Did he really think, or have some memory, that she had… _died_?

Eruka didn’t know what to say. What to think. She had never seen her friend, her partner, in this state. There was a moment of nothing, where the only sound was Free’s heavy breathing. She just watched him, unsure about what to do.

Then, hesitantly, she wrapped her arms around him, showing him that she was real. She was alive. And he clung onto her as though his life depended on it, not daring to break the contact. He soaked in the heat of her body, buried his face into her soft hair, and she let him have his moment. Rubbing soothing circles into his back, Eruka released a sigh and shook her head, her face softening.

“I’m not leaving you anytime soon, you dummy.”

* * *

The journey to the DWMA had been silent. Soul asked her once what had happened, where she had been. But she… couldn’t find a way to answer. She didn’t want to think about everything which had occurred in the red world. Maka didn’t want to relive those memories. Now they were distant, no more than a far off echo. And she was happier for it that way.

Soul was a good partner, though. It was their mutual respect and understanding which they had built up over the years that meant that she would never want anyone to fight alongside her. They knew each other completely. So Soul knew when it was best to drop the issue. Though he desperately wanted to know what had happened, his meister clearly didn’t want to share. He wouldn’t push her, and would only listen if she truly wanted to talk.

As the two entered the academy, they passed Marie with her baby in her arms, looking around the hallway frantically, resembling a headless chicken the way she rushed around. Maka stopped and waved to her, offering a smile.

“Miss Marie?”

“Oh, Maka!” Marie gushed and rushed over to the student, bouncing her young son, Victor, in her arms. It was now that the woman was up-close that Maka saw how panicked she really looked, almost fearful. Concern was heavily in her voice when she spoke. “Do you know where Stein is? I need to find him.” She sounded frantic, the words coming out gabbled. Victor, oblivious to his mother’s slight stress, babbled away happily in her arms, reaching out with his chubby hand to try and grab one of Maka’s pigtails.

Soul frowned and stepped forward, addressing the female Death Scythe. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m not sure…” the hammer began, her one caramel eye darting to the side, clearly still searching for her partner. If she hadn’t been holding the baby, there was no doubt she would have been fiddling nervously instead. That anxious tick had instead been replaced by the constant bouncing of her child. At least the movement was one Victor enjoyed. “I just had a feeling that something was wrong and came here as fast as I could…”

“Marie?”

The woman released a heavy sigh of relief at the sound of her husband’s voice and turned to see him poking his head out of one of the classroom doors. His face had lit up when he laid eyes on his son, and with a large stride the professor was out into the hallway and taking the boy in his hands. Victor laughed as he was lifted into the air, and Stein smirked up at him. Marie, however, seemed completely at ease and far less frantic now that she had them both in her sights.

Maka and Soul watched the scene for a moment, father and mother exchanging grins as the son continued his happy chirping, all three completely oblivious to the students now that they had found each other. Maka shot Soul a smile and elbowed him softly, indicating for him to follow. With that, the two departed, leaving the Stein family to themselves.

When the two entered the Death Room, Lord Death was already standing before his mirror, waiting for them both. His face lit up at the sight of them approaching, though his smile remained relatively contained.

“Ah, Maka!” Death the Kid greeted, also nodding to Soul in acknowledgement. “I’m glad to see you’re alright. Soul was worried about you when you disappeared like that.”

“So were you, dude…” Soul mumbled as he stretched his arms above his head lazily. Maka rolled her eyes at both of them, releasing a soft tsk when she shook her head.

“You both know I can hold my own,” she responded with a joking sigh. Then, without another word, she grasped the chain which hung from her neck and lifted it over her head, removing it from herself. When she held the magic tool, the locket felt heavy in her hand. She looked at it for a moment, eyes blank, before stepping forward and handing it to her friend. “Here, Kid. The DIJINN. Promise me you’ll never let it out of the DWMA archives again.”

And from the electricity of her gaze and the firmness of her tone, there was no way Kid could have refused her demand. The Death God nodded as he took the necklace, pocketing it inside his cloak. “Of course. I promise.”

An awkward pause hung in the air, as though nobody was quite sure what to say. The three glanced at each other for a moment, Maka shuffling her feet, before Kid adjusted his collar and spoke again.

“Maka… would you mind if I had a word with you.” Kid paused, not wanting the next words to sound harsh, as he glanced at Soul. “In private?”

The pigtailed girl’s attention turned to the weapon in the room, who gave her a nonplussed shrug in response. He hardly seemed bothered by being kicked out of the Death Room, and instead of making a fuss, simply straightened himself upright and turned to leave.

“I’ll wait outside,” he responded, waving over his shoulder.

The two waited until Soul’s footsteps were nothing more than distant echos, until the finality of the door slamming shut behind him rang out through the Death Room. A few seconds passed as they waited, before Kid cleared his throat and stared at Maka with his piercing golden eyes.

“So you successfully made Soul a Death Scythe again, I see,” his comment was calm, nonchalant. The boy folded his hands behind him, resting them in the small of his back as he gave a sharp nod, ignoring how Maka’s expression had morphed into shock. “I believe congratulations are in order. You saved everyone and, well… every _thing_. I am most grateful.”

“How did you know…?” Maka trailed off, eyes wide and mouth agape. There was no way Kid could have known about her having to take Arachne’s soul once again. No way he should have known about the fact she had to make Soul a Death Scythe again to return home.

“It’s rather… hard to explain. I have an odd recollection… memories… But they all felt very _real_.” The Reaper sounded vague, like he himself couldn’t quite get his head around the fact. But his eyes returned to Maka, and she felt herself shudder under their intense stare. It was as though Kid was looking right into her soul when he looked at her like that. “I know about the ‘Red World’, Maka. I know what happened.”

“But how _could_ you know? You’re not from that other timeline. You’re… _you_!” Maka exclaimed, gesticulating at the Grim Reaper as though emphasising her point through her actions. Kid raised a single eyebrow at her, head tilted ever so slightly to one side.

“Other timeline?”

“The Stein in the ‘Red World’ believed that after I made my wish, the DIJINN either sent me to another timeline, parallel to our own. That seemed much more likely, anyway.” The pigtailed meister paused, recalling the conversation she had with her professor in her head, a frown slipping into place. “Or it somehow changed my own world but… that wouldn’t be possible.”

“Magic is a very powerful thing, Maka. So it is possible,” Kid began. “From the memories I have, it feels as though everything occurred in our _own_ world. What if the DIJINN somehow did rewrite everything we knew? And when you reverted that, everything returned back to how it originally was.” He paused, trying to find the correct words to express himself. After the briefest moment, the Grim Reaper nodded to himself and continued. “Almost like a huge tornado went tearing through a house, then put everything back in exactly the same position once it died down. Utter chaos, but still somehow order.”

Maka frowned at the analogy, still unsure if such a theory was even plausible. “Is that what you truly believe?” When she asked the question, it came out more bitter than she intended. Lord Death sighed and ran a hand through his hair tiredly, again trying to find a way to express himself. He seemed frustrated in the situation, clearly unable to get a full grasp on it himself.

“Maka, these memories are _mine_. No matter how distant they feel, I _remember_.”

“But Soul doesn’t seem to have any recollection,” she quickly retorted. This caused the Grim Reaper to frown ever so slightly, yet the expression was not directed at her. He was more thoughtful, contemplative.

“Maybe he does remember, in a sense. Maybe he can’t quite put a finger on it; it’s more like a dream than a memory for others…” Kid trailed off, pondering to himself. Even if he would have continued, the female probably wouldn't have heard him as her own thoughts came rushing at her.

Maka’s eyes widened ever so slightly as she recalled bumping into Miss Marie in the corridor. How she had been so worried about Stein for seemingly no reason… the woman had said that she had “just had a feeling” something was wrong. Could that be what Kid meant? Did everyone have some sort of recollection? She was quickly dragged out of her thoughts when her friend cleared his throat loudly, his golden gaze intense and locked on her.

“Listen, Maka. _I_ remember,” he began, and his voice was firm, but not harsh. Just direct. “Your death, the two years I spent inside Baba Yaga, you and everyone else saving me and… I remember Soul consuming Arachne’s soul. Even if it’s fuzzy, it’s still there.” He raised a finger and delicately touched his temple absentmindedly, eyes drifting off to the side as though those memories were flickering through his vision right there and then. Maka lowered her head and bit her lip.

“I see,” she muttered. An image flashed across her mind, the memory of how they had found Kid, and her gut twisted with a combination of disgust and shame. He never would have been in that state if it hadn’t been for _her_ mistake. _Her_ stupid, stupid slip of the tongue. _Her wish_. “I’m sorry I put you through… that.”

His gaze lifted again to focus on her, and his face softened, golden eyes gentle. He offered her a sympathetic smile and reached out to place a hand on her shoulder. It was only a small gesture, but he knew it was comforting from the way the tension in her neck seemed to slip just a little.

“Maka, it wasn’t your fault,” he said quietly. When she raised her head to meet his eyes, his smile grew just a bit larger, just a bit more warm. “If anything, you have my thanks. You… saved me. And everyone else.”

Maka gave a small nod, smiling weakly back at him. For a moment, they were still. Silent. The only sound was their gentle breathing. Then, she reached up and wrapped her arms around Kid’s neck, pulling him closer to her.

He stiffened slightly, a red flush creeping onto his cheeks. Her breath tickled his ear softly, almost making him want to pull away. His hands were just at her hips, not even touching her, but he could feel the warmth of her skin tingling against his fingertips. But despite how awkward and tense he must have been, she held on tightly. Her embrace didn’t slip, and from the way her soul fluttered, she seemed content. Kid relaxed slightly with a soft exhale of breath, his blush dimming, and slowly returned the hug, his arms wrapping around her much less tightly than the hold she had him in.

“I’m just glad you’re alright,” Maka breathed, and Kid could hear the relieved smile in her voice. He nodded and closed his eyes when she buried her head into the crook of his neck, reaching up to stroke the back of her ash-blonde head gently.

“And I you.”

They stood like that for a moment or two, neither one moving. It was only when Kid eventually pulled away slightly that Maka raised her head.

“You probably shouldn’t keep Soul waiting any longer,” the reaper softly said as he took a step back, releasing the meister entirely. She stood for a second silently, then gave a small nod and took a few steps back, giving them more space between them.

“Oh, yeah…”

There was a hesitation, then an awkward wave from the girl as she stepped away from the Death Room platform and made her way towards the exit. But she only made it a few feet before she was stopped again.

“Maka,” Kid called out after her, causing the girl to pause underneath the guillotine archway. She turned to face him again, questioning him with her emerald eyes, and he smiled again in response. “Don’t feel guilty about anything. Honestly, you’ve done well.”

Maka gave a small nod and her expression mirrored his. “Thanks, Kid.”

The two offered each other a small wave once more, before Maka turned on her heels once more and exited the Death Room. Once she made it outside, closing the door behind her, she was met by the sight of her partner leaning lazily against a wall. Upon spotting his meister, he raised an eyebrow at her in acknowledgement.

“So what was that all about?”

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” Her dismissal was quick, causing Soul to shrug. Maka, glad that he didn’t question her any further, smiled slightly at him rocked on her heels. “So, do you want to get lunch? I’m starving!” The statement was finished off with a wink, which earnt a vigorous nod from her partner.

“Deathbucks?” suggested Soul, his own stomach growling as though the thought of food had suddenly kick-started it to life once again. Maka chuckled at the sound, and the flush of embarrassment which came with it from the scythe.

“Sounds perfect,” she confirmed, offering her friend a thumbs-up of approval. Then, she took a step ahead of him, raring to go. “Race you there!” And with that challenge she charged off, laughing over her shoulders when Soul’s grumbles met her ears.

The meister sped through the corridors, sending smiles to everyone she passed. Particularly so when she spotted a group of three NOT students excitedly chatting away to each other. They were all recognisable: Tsugumi, Meme, and Anya. The weapon waved vigorously at the upperclassmen, but it was the golden-haired girl in the group caught Maka’s eye. Anya returned the smile she had been given fondly, a small wave accompanying it as the meister continued speeding on.

Maka’s heart was racing as she left the school and ran into the freshness outside. The wind rustled through her hair, her skin bathed in the warmth of the sun. It was a perfect day, and Maka felt at peace with the rest of the world in that moment.

As Maka was about to descend the grand staircase which led to the academy, her emerald eyes trailed up to the heavens and focused on the colour of the expanse over her head. She stopped suddenly, as though absorbing the shade of it, and a warm smile grew on her face. Her eyes closed, and the meister breathed in the clean air around her, focusing on the sensation as it filled her lungs. Then she released it all with a satisfied sigh as her weapon finally caught up with her.

Maka opened her eyes once more, looking up above with the same grin.  

“Blue skies…”

* * *

**“I see skies of blue and clouds of white,**  
**The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night,**  
**And I think to myself…**  
**What a wonderful world.”**  


– Louis Armstrong, _What a Wonderful World_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's done! Thank goodness. It's such a relief to have finished Resbang. Honestly, there were a lot of things I wanted to do with this story, expand on the world building, that I just didn't have time to do. Even so, I hope you enjoyed what I was able to get out. Again, don't forget to go see tilliquoi's art: http://tilliquoi.tumblr.com/post/135582803213/my-art-for-crimson-lias-fic-red-skies-for-resbang. Thank you for reading!


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